Dark Archangel II: The Ocean Beyond
by Athena1999
Summary: The DA saga continues. Is Myotismon truly a Dark Archangel? When his virus infects Angewomon and his unborn son, he is condemned to the Dark Ocean where he is haunted by his past and encounters former enemies. Will he fall victim to his own darkness?
1. Exposition

**_Dark Archangel II: The Ocean Beyond_**

by AthEnA1999

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Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine, nor are any of the characters or digital worlds. Not even the Dark Ocean is mine, which is a shame because I'd really like to travel to it!

Introduction/Author's Note: This is the sequel to Dark Archangel. I didn't think that DA would spawn a sequel, either, but here it is! Be prepared for a somewhat shaky and slow start. Let the story develop. The first chapter's a bit… erm… _fluffy_, but that's just to set the mood. I have nothing more to say—I think the story should speak for itself. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

Exposition

Heaven. The realm of angels. The tranquil, ever-changing ocean in the sky. Peaceful. Clear. Vast. Only seen through the eyes of true believers—not even the birds that soar through it have seen, unless they knew of the wonders above—the angels, the celestial sentries, watched over the earth below with their beautiful eyes and guarded it from the dangers that escaped from hell.

The image human perception spins when it hears the word "angel" is the icon from Christian folklore—plump, cherubic faces with rosy pink cheeks and clear eyes; silken white robes draped over their figures and fluttering like curtains as they fly; a golden halo bursting with light; and two dazzling white, feathery wings. Although angels like this did exist, their existence was not in a physical state. These seraphs were merely spirits of goodness that guided believers through their toughest times in life.

The believers, regardless of how much credence they held in their visions, were completely wrong. Three angels—tangible, although not flesh and blood but digital material—resided above the earth as its sentries, guarding it and only descending below the atmosphere in its times of greatest need. Two closely resembled the visions of angels as portrayed in works of art, but the third—the most powerful of all—barely matched any angelic description except for his golden hair and white garments. And even then, the hues were the only angelic elements his physical state had to offer.

He soared through the air, aided by his fellow digital seraphs, for he was recovering from a strenuous fight in the digital world. He had first defeated a dragon of unknown origin that was composed entirely of pure fire and smoke that was on its way to ravage the digital world. Despite the close encounter with the inferno itself, this angel showed no signs of being burned or even singed, even on his flawless white cape lined in silver. The second battle was with a digimon—an inhabitant of the digital world— that was gaining power from below the surface of the world—Hell, as it was known—and was known by the name of InfernoDevimon. The angel had won the battle… until InfernoDevimon digivolved to mega and released the last burst of his power in an attack that left a cross-shaped burn on his chest. The burn was so intense it literally scorched him clear through to the other side, and he would have died if the two others had not digivolved to extinguish the demon.

The three of them had traveled through the ever-present portal and had once again reached Earth, which was not as prone to evil as the digital world. Angemon, the bodyguard, flew at the head, leading them through a jungle of clouds until they stopped. His six snow-white wings halted in midair, then led him upwards onto an omnipresent _cumulus congestus_ that towered like a mountain and would have been a _cumulonimbus_ if not for the fact that it was not even in the atmosphere. (Being digital, the angels were able to survive in space.) Atop the cumulus was a pure white citadel that was cathedral-like in appearance, but was in reality a place of residence for the three of them.

The triad landed before the enormous, blue-tinted, crystal double doors at the front, and the doors opened to reveal a central hallway that contained not more marble, but every form of earthly vegetation and gentle terrestrial animals imaginable that surrounded a stone walkway and a pool of the clearest and purest water conceivable. Angewomon, the female angel, gently guided her exhausted husband towards the pool. She glanced at Angemon, and he flew out of the room to leave the two lovers alone.

"My dear, you don't have to prove yourself like this," she elucidated, holding back a slight laugh despite the gravity of the wound. "InfernoDevimon is one of the most potent evil digimon in existence, and even you, as an ultimate, cannot defeat him alone."

"It's my… commitment… to you," the outcast replied, wincing through the agony. "It's… my… penance."

This outcast had not always been an angel. As a matter of fact, he was not a "true" angel, but had once been. Before any of this had occurred, the outcast had assumed the form and behavior of a vampire—fangs, pallor, black cape, bats, and an unquenchable thirst for blood—but the personality of a demon more evil and sinister than any digimon before him, even Devimon and Apocalymon. This was so overwhelming to his henchmen that Wizardmon—once his greatest adversary, now his friend and confidante—had requested a spell from the leader Azulongmon to transform him into an angel. However, the spell had been recited with four words missing, and the consequences corresponded. The former vampire had become an Angemon with fangs, bat wings, and his own visage and voice. The name even matched—he had gone from Myotismon to AngeMyotismon. The fact that AngeMyotismon remained a vampire was apparent—he had nearly killed Rosemon by draining her of her blood—and for those actions he was banished from the digital world to prove his worthiness. Becoming a paramour for Angewomon and a target for angel-hunters and his own Shadow Mode, life as a fugitive on Earth was difficult and even cruel with no one there beside him except for the angel maiden, and even she had only appeared to him three times. After completing three unselfish and heroic deeds and then defeating his own Shadow Mode, AngeMyotismon was welcomed into the digital world and given the permanent position of guardian of Earth.

Following his initiation, he no longer assumed his "truly" angelic form, but rather his vampiric one with a different uniform. Of course, there was the white-and-silver cape, but the garments consisted of more than that (but not much more.) Like Angemon and Angewomon's dazzling white bodysuits that clung to their curves and muscles (and in Angewomon's case, exposed much of her skin), Myotismon wore a tight, revealing, white ensemble that might had been a bodysuit had it not been divided into two parts. The first covered only his arms and upper chest and was cut away at the collarbone, exposing himself—including his new scar—down to his gold, silver-studded belts. On the shoulders were two blue bat emblems resembling the ones on his previous blue suit. The lower part covered everything below his belts and even had an extra piece of white cloth hanging from it, like on his previous uniform. He wore white, silver-lined boots with a silver bat on one and a silver moon on the other. His gloves were a shimmery gold and had nothing on them. His cape was held to his suit by two sapphire clasps on the shoulders and one gold bat clasp with a ruby in the center on his chest. Topping everything off and hiding a scar from his past was a white, bat-winged mask. Evidence of his vampiric past still remained—he possessed the same visage, complete with blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, pale blue skin, and fangs.

His digimon name was Myotismon Celestial Mode. His title was Lord Myotismon, Dark Archangel of the Digital World. To his close acquaintances, he was merely called Myotismon.

Angewomon crushed a handful of healing herbs into a pile of soil, then poured water on it. She smeared it on the burn, which no longer gave the vampire an excruciating internal burn, but instead a rush of coolness. She murmured an incantation and allowed her hands to wander over her husband's chest, which was firm and muscular. She blushed as she stared into Myotismon's amethyst eyes. "You are so brave and tenacious to have faced that demon alone…" she whispered. "That's why I love you so much…"

As Myotismon stood up, showing no signs of discomfort, he took Angewomon's hands and brought her up with him. "And if you had not fought alongside me…" he continued, subtly guiding his love towards the pool, "… I would not even be here to… to…" he trailed off.

"Do what?" whispered the angel maiden.

"To do this!" Before Angewomon could realize what was happening, Myotismon let himself fall backwards into the pool, taking Angewomon with him. With a small shriek, she landed in the glacial water, the goldfish scattering as she did so. She stood up and found herself waist-deep in the water, sopping wet. At first she did not find this amusing, but seeing how Myotismon was beginning to laugh at this, she immediately saw the humor and removed her helmet, scooped up some of the water, and splashed him in the face. He playfully splashed her back, and within seconds it had turned into a frenzy in which even a fish or two was thrown through the air.

Angemon appeared at the poolside, arms akimbo. "Having fun, are we?" he said, the others not knowing if he was teasing them or about to lecture them. He looked at the muddy mixture streaming down Myotismon's front side into the water. "Myotismon… I see healing took a shorter time for you than expected…"

Myotismon glanced at Angewomon. She took her helmet, dragged it through the water, and splashed it on Angemon. He looked slightly ticked off, and the hall fell silient. Instead of blowing up at them or even reproaching them, the angel jumped into the pool with a large splash and began to take part in the water fight.

The water war only lasted for a short time—less than an hour. Angemon decided he was tired, climbed out of the pool, and left the room. The other two left, but went in a different direction. They lay out on the silken surface of the cloud, where they watched the earth below them, the moon above them, and the stars around them. The sun was hidden behind them, simulating nightfall on Earth. They found a formation that somewhat resembled a giant seat, and both snuggled up against one another endearingly. Angewomon lay the side of her head against Myotismon's chest and felt as if she was going to cry—the sensed the heat radiated by the burn mark scorching her face.

"I think it's going to be a scar…" the vampire sighed, running his hand absentmindedly through the angel's hair.

She sank lower and turned her head upwards. "Imagine, Myo… your flawless skin blemished by a scar! For the first time!"

F_or the first time_… the words continuously echoed in his mind. Angewomon did not know. Before, Myotismon would have rather died than reveal the secret of his past. But now…

"I remember when I was Gatomon, and you scarred my paw with your Crimson Lightning," reminisced the angel, no longer gazing at the vampire, but at the moon above. "I thought… I thought I would never recover, it hurt so much…"

Myotismon felt a qualm in his stomach when Angewomon had brought the subject up. If there was nothing more he wanted, it was to not be reminded of the past. He wanted it covered up… he felt overexposed and desired a metal breastplate to cover his entire cross-shaped scar… he wanted to conceal his entire body from the neck down… no evidence of weakness should be visible. As a vampire, he took pride in his appearance, and that included a flawless complexion. Intense training allowed him to be victorious in battle and emerge without a single scratch, and if he did, his blue suit could conceal all, likewise his mask. He looked at himself and saw how imperfect he truly was—besides the scar, he saw how thin and fragile his figure was, with his spindly limbs and bones sticking out where he had no muscle… pure weakness. For hundreds of years, he had the illusion that he was overly bulging with muscle and even designed the uniform to enhance what might have been. But now… now it was different. Everything was exposed to the world, and there was no chance of concealment…

Except his one scar, the one he even kept hidden from himself.

When he was a rookie, his former master Toxidramon had whipped him for rebelling. His _former master_. Myotismon had once been a servant, long ago. To reveal that he was once under the command of a more powerful digimon—why, that would defeat everything! He would not be so powerful, so intimidating! And to reveal it to a former servant, that was nearly as humiliating as a current servant!

He still felt somewhat above Angewomon in some aspects, for he used to be her master, and she his servant.

His servant must never know.

Never.

Never…

"Myotismon?" Angewomon looked up at him. The vampire wished beyond belief that she would not address the subject of his mask.

"Yes?" wondered Myotismon.

"Myo… how come you have never removed your mask?"

The vampire felt his stomach plummet out of the heavens, as if the angel had read his mind like a book. He averted his gaze to a cloud above him, but he immediately forced himself to glance down, for the cloud was cross-shaped, like his scar. He remained silent.

Angewomon rolled over and gently pinned him to the surface of the cloud, her body pressed against his. "Didn't you hear me? How come you have never removed your mask? I have spent hours at a time without my helmet, and yet… you've never done the same for me?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Please? Do what I have done… I love you and want to see you for whom you are."

"The same… for you? My dear, what do you imply by that? Have you not considered the hours at a time I have spent making love to you?"

The angel, growing irritated, rolled off of her husband and sat upright. "You call sinking your fangs into my neck 'making love?'"

Myotismon sat up as well, aware of the intensifying heat of the scar on his chest. "Angewomon, when a vampire loves another and wants to express his passion for her, he releases his seed by planting his fangs into the woman's neck in such a way that—"

"You would think, Myotismon, that with all the books you have buried your face in in the eight hundred years you have been alive, you would have gained some knowledge as to how to make love the _correct_ way. The _traditional_ way."

"I do not take to reading bawdy novels, as I find they bore me. It's all the same to me!"

"You're such a stick in the mud sometimes. Did you know that? Being married to you, I finally realize the mistake I made!"

"I made an even greater mistake by enlisting you in my army of Nightmare Soldiers!"

"You made an even greater mistake than that simply by _existing_!"

Angewomon paused to catch her breath, then committed an action that she thought she would never need to commit again. She slapped her husband—striking him across the face—then stood up and flew into the distance.

"Angewomon!" cried Myotismon apologetically as the angel turned into a white speck and finally disappeared. The scar on his chest burned itself even deeper into his heart.

In a realm that was closer to anyone than they believed—most were completely unaware of this dimension's existence in the universe—a lone pair of ice blue eyes stared at the vampire, relishing his inner turmoil. Entombed in the complete darkness in his chambers, the possessor of the eyes was unable to be seen, but his presence was apparent. Simply being in a room with him could send a chill down one's spine. He stared at Myotismon and watched him attempt not to cry like a child, but the attempt was in vain. Instead, the vampire fell onto the surface of the cloud and attempted to clutch his chest, but every time he did, it made the scar burn more intensely than ever and nearly eat away at him. Chuckling, the Virus turned away from his entertainment and towards the door.

"InfernoDevimon?" he demanded.

The doorway into the room opened, sending a beam of red light into the room. Immediately the figure slipped into the shadows as the fiery demon's blaze lit up the room.

"Yes?" Seeing the new figure seated at his former master's ebony desk, he grew furious. "Who are you, and what have you done with Lord Daemon! I DEMAND to know the answer!" To prove his point, he held up a blue-hot fireball.

"SILENCE!" A beam of blood-colored lightning shot from the master's direction and hit InfernoDevimon, forcing him against the wall. "You may not speak unless I allow you to, you pathetic twit!"

The demon coughed up lava and ash as he keeled over, attempting not to disappoint his leader. Ever since the demon had wrenched the Dark Ocean out of Daemon's and Marinedevimon's grasp, he was the unquestioned leader whom no one dared to challenge. Fortunately, InfernoDevimon could have been granted leeway if not for the fact that he was a member of the Demon Corps.

"…Who…" He whooped up more lava and coughed it onto the floor, and if he had not known any better, it seemed that the new master had frozen it with a single glance from his ice-blue eyes. "…are… you?"

"I am your master," replied the demon, who chuckled to himself as he relished the consternation of a fellow Virus. "And you are my slave."

"Slave!" InfernoDevimon was skeptical. "Never will I be your slave, freak of nature! I only serve the one named Daemon!" He formed another fireball and hurled it at the stranger, only to see him hold out an appendage and cause the fireball to disintegrate into a pile of ash.

The demonic digimon gave him a cockeyed glance out of his ice-blue eyes, and InfernoDevimon felt his strength getting sucked out of himself and his flames flickering out. He crashed onto the ground, shaking under the lack of energy. He stared in front of him to see the owner of the eyes that he now feared beyond belief, and on the floor he was nearly at eye level with this enigmatic digimon who appeared to be no larger than a bird.

"You mean… _this_ Daemon?" the childlike digimon asked airily, motioning to the bubble with his ragged wings. The interior spun a scene of a horned demon enveloped in a crimson cloak who was chained to the walls of a crystal prison, struggling to break free. As the demon finally surrendered to his surroundings, the picture disappered.

The devil said nothing; he merely felt his breath staggering and a pain tugging at his chest.

"So whom will you serve now that he is confined to a crystal prison?" The digimon revealed himself to be nothing more than a velvet-black Demidevimon with ice blue eyes and crimson interiors of his wings.

"Whom will I serve? Not you! An InfernoDevimon serving a Demidevimon? Never!"

"Do not be so sure…" suggested the rookie, advancing on his new slave and baring his pearly fangs. "No, do not be so sure at all…"

"Myotismon! Myo… are you all right? Please… speak to me… my love!" Angewomon kneeled over Myotismon and took his hand, which clutched onto hers as if to say that he heard her. His eyes were squeezed so tightly shut, tears of pain could not break through, and his teeth were clenched as if to help his eyes overcome everything. "Myo! Wake up, please! Myo!" She glanced at his chest and saw that the scar had changed from a faint red hue to a crimson so intense that it was actually glowing. Gasping from the shock, Angewomon fell backwards and nearly lost him, but instead she attempted to cry herself to heal everything. "I'M SO SORRY I HURT YOU!" she exclaimed from the bottom of her heart.

Immediately, the searing heat and the intense glow ceased, and the vampire began to relax but gasp for air. He opened his eyes to see a blurry vision of Angewomon standing before him.

"Angewomon?… Is that you?" wondered Myotismon.

"Yes…" whispered the angel, laying a cool hand on the side of her husband's face. "Oh, Myo… I'll never leave you alone like that again… I'm… I'm… sorry I yelled at you like that… you may remove your mask whenever you please and make love the way you wish."

"My dear… do you—"

"Shhhhh…" the angel lay a single finger against his lips and then gently sank into the cloud next to him. She placed her hand on the cross-shaped scar and immediately drew it back, squealing as silently as she could. "I want to see if I can heal you… but it hurts so much to me!"

Angewomon saw that Myotismon had shifted and now lay on his side. The clouds encircled them more closely, and they found themselves in their own heavenly realm where it was secluded to just the two of them, pure cumulus cloud on all sides except above them. The moonlight shone down on them, bathing them in a heavenly blue light. "I believe you have… when you told me you loved me."

Both leaned in and wrapped their arms around the other, kissing each other passionately.

"Damn!" Demidevimon attempted to pound the desk with his fist, which proved to be impossible because he did not have any fists to begin with, and turned towards InfernoDevimon. "It was so close, if not for that damned Angewomon… and it is not the first… or second… or even the third time, either…" The imp turned his back on his servant and began fuming.

"But, master… you do not understand… he would have never had that scar if not for my work?"

Demidevimon gave a sinister grin and faced the demon again. "You are correct, good fellow, but the scar is not the only reason your work has been deemed commendable. Your scar for him is merely a blemish on the surface… but what you did to him inside is absolutely priceless."

"What do you mean, master?"

"What I mean is… you are a Devimon, so your attacks have properties unlike those of other Viruses. Your final outburst before you died and entered this realm contained much of your… dark magic… which possesses not only the potential the scar the victim's flesh for life, but also his heart and soul… every shroud, every grain of an agonizing memory he recollects… every rejection, sign of never being loved, epithet and abusive action thrown at him… everything even the slightest bit traumatic that he experiences will be projected in him tenfold, eating away at him from the inside out until he becomes nothing but a shell. A soulless shell that will yield himself to my power…"

"But why do you want Myotismon, and not… say… Angemon? Won't you get even stronger if I attack an angel and drain his judgement through agony and suffering? Why this vampire?"

"Because… he and I are mortal enemies… he defeated me upon the arrival of the winter solstice… and now that summer has arrived I will finally receive the revenge I sought for so long!"

"So he defeated you. Big deal! He defeated me, and I'm a Mega, for God's sake, and I didn't get all vengeful about it—"

"If there is one thing you do not understand, InfernoDevimon, is that I am not the mere Rookie that the outward appearance suggests. I was once an Ultimate like himself… living for eight hundred years in his presence but I, the yang, was always halted in my steps by the sickening yin that was him. We shared our enmity with each other until I found the precious jewel of Earth and nearly had it in my grasp if not for _him_ and the other two angels who are worthy of my contempt. _He_ sent me to this godforsaken place to waste away in the filth I sent here. And now I will make sure he pays dearly for everything!"

"How, master Demidevimon?"

"In good time, my minion, you will know." He gazed into the orb with his ice-blue eyes and contemplated the near future. "Oh, yes… you will know sooner than you expect…"

To be continued…


	2. Love is Pain

A/N: Now that I have received enough reviews (no, I'm not selfish or anything—I just want to know if people are interested enough for me to continue), it is time I post the second chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially to Adalia Glenys for her honesty and willingness to give some constructive criticism! (Yes, it's ironic that I received A's in AP American Lit, but I still can't write a story using proper English… it's the connotations in vocabulary that really get me!) Please, if you find anything awkward in the way I write or are confused about something, don't be afraid to tell me. Thank you!

Adalia-- Thank you for your honesty! By the way, the explanation for the lack of bloodlust and my take on copulation are explained here. And no, Myotismon does not qualify as a true angel. There's an explanation for that as well.

Sabriel-- Thanks! Hope you had fun on your trip!

blackmage-- I hope to see you back here!

vampirelucemon-- It's so nice to see you again! Thanks for dropping by!

By the way, if there is anything in this story (particularly this chapter) that might be a little… intense for the younger audiences, let me know so I can change the rating.

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Chapter 2

Love is Pain

The two angels lay on the surface of the cloud, entwined in each other's arms and wings, pieces of their thin, scanty attire scattered around them. Both, after making love to each other the "traditional" way long into the night (which was impossible to distinguish from the day because they were not even on Earth to begin with), were exhausted yet still caught in the web of passion. Angewomon was nearly drained of her energy, and her eyelids were weighted shut.

Myotismon, on the other hand, seemed to live on through his effort, most likely because he maintained his strength through intense training and even more strenuous battles. He ran his hand through the angel's hair and down her side, letting it rest on her hip. "Angewomon…" he whispered into her ear.

The angel was only half-awake and heard the vampire's voice only as a faint call. "Hmmmmm…?" she asked. She felt herself burning up… but not from the heat of recent events…

"Angewomon… may I… give you the vampire's kiss?"

The angel felt nothing but her head swimming. She did not care… all she wanted was for something to ameliorate the growing fire in her skin. "I want you… to…" She trailed off.

The vampire did not interpret the intentions of his bride correctly, and took it in as "I want you to make love to me _your_ way." He felt his mouth water with the lust for blood once again, just as he had before he transformed into an angel. His fangs elongated, aching to penetrate the rosy flesh on her neck and cut deep into her veins. He could see her jugular vein throbbing on that beautiful neck of hers, and he could hear the rushing of her sweet, red blood which enticed him to release his data into it… with that, he could create an heir, a son… so beautiful, like her—

He grabbed Angewomon around the waist and pinned her to the surface of the cloud like so many other victims to the grass. She turned her head aside, knowing what was about to come but not desiring it—but she could not refuse this expression of his affection for her. He only saw the neck—that beautiful neck just full to bursting with her sweet nectar—his fangs elongated to the point of aching, and his thirst overcame him—

He plunged them deep into her flesh, right where her vein throbbed the hardest. He could feel her pulse quickening and hear her heartbeat and deep breaths. She screamed—it was not painful, but it definitely was not pleasant, either. She could feel it all enter her neck—twin blades releasing a stream of data squirting into her vein like vaccine through a needle—searching for her most fertile soil… searching… searching…

Angewomon began to scream even harder, as if she were in pain, as if she were ill—the fangs withdrew, and blood erupted from the twin punctures, through the vampire's awaiting lips, pouring down his throat and filling him with her sweet nectar—

He swallowed, leaving a bitter aftertaste lingering on his tongue. Suddenly, everything seemed to pull him backward and disorient him, as if his head were swimming in frozen water. He felt a rush of cold air on his skin and a different sort of flesh against his lips. Blinking and gaining consciousness, he saw that the womon in his arms now lay beneath him, yet at the same time was wrapped around him, and a _woman_—a flesh-and-blood human grasping for her life, her face invisible to his sight. He had no control… he felt like a marionette with the strings pulled by not Fate or Destiny, but _himself_. He knew it… he had done this before… he had done more than merely drink her life… he had objectified and soiled her, leaving her in the ground with nothing but his marks and bruised, bloodstained skin.

Human blood… the dash of fear left him craving more, so much he could gorge on it all night. He thrust himself forward until his body was pressed against hers, which was packed into the ground, and heard her feeble voice gasping, "Please… please… no more…" She turned her head upwards, but no facial features were visible—he had no recollection of any specific victims, thus he did not remember the details of her face. All he knew was her blood. He pulled out and lifted himself off the ground with his arms. Suddenly, the skin on her face was not alone—every detail of her visage was now completely visible and _vivid_—her mouth open in horror and shock, unattached to her thoughts, moving with her pleas but no sound escaped… her small, dainty nose draining fluid from the frigid darkness and her tear-drenched eyes which could hold no more… and her eyes. Her eyes were the most vivid of all—wide with desperation, with a pure, crystalline blue jewel in the center, tears streaming outward from the unbearable pain and knowing she would die.

Myotismon wanted desperately to comfort her; unfortunately, his thoughts were completely detached from his actions, and all resistance was in vain.

She staggered her breathing, gasping air for her life but never getting enough. Tears streamed down her colorless cheeks as she pleaded between gasps, "Stop… please, stop… I've had enough… enough… no…" Her voice dropped to a whisper—"_I don't want to die… but at the same time… I want to! Dear God, I WANT TO DIE!"_

_Don't kill her!_ the vampire pleaded to himself, but all was in vain. His urges overpowered him, and he sank his fangs deeper into her neck, thrusting himself so far inside her, he broke other tissue and she screamed bloody murder. No one could hear her in the secluded park… It was so excruciating for him to relive everything—the way his sexual desire took control, accompanied by his vampiric instincts to create this _creature_, this _monster_—

He wanted to die. He wanted to let out a scream so loud the earth would shatter.

And he did. The vision shattered to reveal his true surroundings of the glittery heavens and soft clouds. He cried out from the overwhelming horror of reliving that one moment when he had become more beast than mon. He shouted so loudly, it could have been heard through Earth's atmosphere. Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision.

And then—

The scar. He could feel his scar, perforating through his heart, _eating away at his soul_… his very existence…

Sparks of Crimson Lightning flew before his eyes, seemingly jumping from beneath his mask, but a crimson X outglowed all. He could feel the hellfire tormenting him from within, every flame licking at his skin from beneath it. A roaring inferno erupted from the cicatrix on his chest, enveloping him in heat and despair… demons laughed at him and mocked him, prodding him with their pitchforks… an unknown man spread his cape to unleash the very bats—_his_ bats—from the Grisly Wing attack on him—they were eating away at him, reducing him to nothing… _nothing… NOTHING_—

"MYOTISMON!" screamed Angewomon.

The vampire's eyes sprung open to see his angelic love—his savior—kneeling over him and clutching his hands. Angewomon felt herself crying for what she believed was the thousandth time that night, but so much had happened to the mon she loved and cherished… she brought his hands up to her face and brushed them against her cheeks, as if to wipe away her tears. She could see Myotismon's chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to breathe. The scar, which had already been a dangerous-looking shade of crimson, had begun to glow like a red-hot coal.

"M—Myotismon?" she asked again, feeling the tears erupt from her eyes. "Live… please live… you've been through so much…" Her voice dropped to a whisper not unlike the victim's. "_I want your pain to end… but at the same time… I don't want it to be through death! Dear Goddramon, I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!_" She started to bawl as she held the vampire's hands against her face and brushed herself against them.

For a brief moment, Myotismon saw the victim's face in Angewomon's.

He gasped.

"Myo…" murmured Angewomon, and her face returned.

The scar ceased its burning, and all that remained for that moment was an unpleasant prickling inside, but the mental anguish had left an even deeper impact. Nothing could take his mind off that night's actions since he relived every detail. He had repressed it, even forgot about it, because the human body was nothing but a trivial object that could be utilized to any extent before disposal… particularly those of females. In his eight hundred years of existence, it seemed that he had never learned to love, but learned to make love. He had read a number of books that addressed the subject of the latter—history, biology, and—most of all—anatomy, but never lived to know about it. Digimon hatched from eggs; thus they either reproduced asexually or were continually reincarnated from recycled data. However, the humanoids were the exception. They had the capabilities and the structures to reproduce like humans (which justified the severe absence of humanoids in the digital world), and possessed such feelings as love, commitment, and passion. In his eight hundred years of existence, Myotismon had never experienced or felt love, so all substance was stolen from otherwise sacred feelings, leaving him with nothing but lust.

That sense of hollow victory led to several instances not unlike the one his memory had unearthed. He could now recall three other humans and countless unsuspecting female digimon whose faces held the exact same expression as the victim's.

He always felt a crash after the brief escape into pleasure, and he failed to realize this until after that particular woman. Nothing could ameliorate his longing for love… it was all lust that was satisfied.

He despised everything about it so much, he vowed that he would never do so again. Angewomon was different… they truly loved each other, and that was the only way they could truly express it. Still, he believed that everything caused the most recent memory to flood back and bombard him with the painful details from the other side.

Had he given her the vampire's kiss against her wishes?

"Angewomon… I'm sorry," he admitted. "I… I couldn't… I wish I had…"

"Myo…" began the angelic queen, as if consoling him. She leaned over him and played with a lock of his hair that clung to his face. "Myo… don't worry about it… it was my fault as well… I wish I could have helped it, but…" She did not have the heart to tell him that her body, not wanting him to sink his fangs into it, unleashed the power to bring back excruciatingly painful memories to whomever "attacked" her. She sighed again and sobbed into his bare stomach, desperately wishing for his scar to disappear.

_Rosemon._

The name echoed in his mind.

_You remember what happened to Rosemon._

He was whipped through time and space and saw himself as _AngeMyotismon_, only he acted more like he had as a true vampire and not a half-vampire like his form of Myotismon Celestial Mode. He saw the beautiful flower Rosemon resting peacefully on her bed of flowers, almost like a floral angel… her chest rising and falling as her sweet breath escaped her lips…

Blood.

Delicious, warming, fulfilling _blood_. He could hear it running through her veins like rivers, enticing him to drink deeply of it. The thought of Rosemon's blood bursting with the sweet flavor of nectar made his mouth water and his vision grow so sharp, he was nearly disoriented and overcome by dizziness. He was like a wild animal on the prowl, and he was about to catch his finest prey. He could feel his fangs lengthening and nearly digging into his chin.

_Why must I? She is the queen of the digital forest?_

Myotismon's body refused to listen to his mind. He pounced on her, pinning her to the ground, and plunged his fangs into her neck. He heard her sweet voice shatter the cold air, but he refused to listen to her as well. He glanced at Rosemon and saw the same expression as his previous victim's, and immediately the blood that rushed into his mouth was mixed with _fear_. His mind wanted his body to stop, but the latter seemed to have a mind of its own. The blood, laced with nectar and fear, was full to bursting with flavor and was so rich… so addictive… he _needed more!_ He sucked and sucked, attempting to swallow every last drop of her liquid life.

All of a sudden, he pulled his bloodstained fangs out of her porcelain neck and let her fall out of his arms.

"_What have I done_?" The words seemed to escape as he found himself on his and Angewomon's casket-shaped bed in their palace, the angel watching over him like a sentinel. "What have I done?" he murmured.

"Shhhhh…" Agewomon put a finger against his lips. "It's all right, my love…" She cracked a weak smile as she helped the vampire sit up. "I'm sorry about everything… it's my fault…"

_No_, thought Myotismon. _I was more in the wrong than you. Your nightmare-inducing power cannot be helped… but my past could have been… it could have been…_

Angewomon lay on the bed beside her lover, resting her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. She began to feel as if she were burning all over, and as if everything in her head was flailing to keep itself from drowning. "I… I'm so tired…" she murmured, trying to find the vampire with her hand. She felt two cool hands envelop hers and lay it against his stomach, lest it be burned by the searing scar on his chest. "Myo… watch over me… feel better… I love you beyond what… words can…" Before she could say _describe_, she fell into a deep, dark slumber.

* * *

Myotismon lay awake for hours, partially from the fear of relapsing into another nightmare, but mostly because his mind was plagued with questions.

_Was I no different tonight than I had been?_ he thought. _It doesn't seem that I would be… Angewomon and I are married and love each other enough to demonstrate our love in that way… but I had listened to her those other times. Tonight, I sank my fangs into her, and I realize that she had wanted anything but that. Am I still a true vampire, possibly… a Virus?_

_ I cannot be a vampire, or at least a full one. On the other hand, I am not an angel, either. As AngeMyotismon, I was a vampire wrapped in an angelic husk who slowly metamorphosized into a true angel. Then my physical state reverted back to my original form, but every other being knew that I had an angelic soul. Still, I felt so… discontent, like everything about it is so hollow. _

_ Celestial Mode, bah! It's nothing but a change of costume, the absence of my Grisly Wing attack, two new attacks, and a sword. I am still capable of Crimson Lightning and Nightmare Claw, but I never use them anymore… I have no wings… _He felt the twin agony protruding from between his lips, and winced as they drew blood on his fingertips. The tips of his white gloves were stained red. _All I have are these damn fangs and a thirst for blood._

He stood up and wandered to the window, and realized that he cast no reflection in the glass, as he did in his original state. A thought entered his mind, and he gathered strength to conjure a viewing orb slightly taller than himself. A clear bubble outlined in a rainbow-hued film blew itself up on the center of the carpet, and in it appeared the vampire's worst nightmare: his true appearance.

He could not escape reality. There he stood, facing himself in the center of the room, staring at every imperfection. His skin was too pale and an unhealthy blue hue; wisps of his hair flew out of place; his face, so handsome it seemed to have been carved by angels, seemed completely hideous to the vampire himself because of his fangs and the ungodly scar that spanned his eyes. The mask was nothing short of ridiculous. The exposed skin on his body had the faint remains of scars from his past battles, unnoticable to the naked eye but clearly visible to their owner. Not even Angewomon noticed when she saw him up close, but Myotismon noticed everything and loathed it. Worst of all, he hated his thin and fragile frame. He had well-toned muscles, but none of them were able to effectively conceal the bones that stuck out from underneath his skin. It made him look like he had not eaten in years. He knew that a diet of blood and wine could never compensate for the intense fighting and training he had done on a daily basis.

A freak, that was what he was. An emaciated, scarred, vampiric freak.

Alone.

A frigid gust swept through the room, although the windows were not opened. The white velvet curtains blew upward, and the lone candles that surrounded the bed and glowed were reduced to wisps of smoke. Something unseen drained the color out of the surroundings, turning them a monochromatic shade of grey. Myotismon could hear his heart beating rapidly, accompanied by frightening sounds that he had once found pleasure in hearing—screams of the dying, the howling wind and roaring thunder, the screeching of bats—

Silence. All was gone from his mind, except a feeling of his feet going numb as they were enveloped in a wave of coldness. He could barely breathe, and he looked down to see his feet submerged in an unearthly, metallic flood, which rapidly began to fill the room. He blinked and glanced around, and saw that there was not even a room to flood. All that there was, was him and the water.

The Dark Ocean.

_His_ Dark Ocean, with absolute nothingness. Not _the_ Dark Ocean, which was considered a Hell or Purgatory for fallen digital souls. _His_ Dark Ocean. _The ocean beyond the Dark Ocean._

Everything grew colder. The vampire pulled his cape tightly around him, but the water had reached his waist and had soaked through most of the cloak. This was his _shield_, which no attack could penetrate, but it surrendered to water. _If_ it was water.

"Angewomon…" he murmured, his mind spinning a picture of his angelic queen, wondering if he would ever see her again…

* * *

Angemon entered the room, his eyes beholding an unusual sight. Angewomon slept in the bed, but her face was scarlet from her intensifying fever. She seemed too weak to even awaken. Even stranger to his eyes, he saw Myotismon on the carpet, curled inside his cape, more exhausted than Angewomon.

"Angewomon?" he called out. "Myotismon?" he whispered.

Seeing that neither had even stirred, the angel grew concerned (mainly for Angewomon because he had never completely taken a liking to Myotismon.) Because he only knew about the presence of evil and not what sort of curse plagued either (if it were a curse), he hurried up several sets of marble staircases, each spiraling tighter and tighter before they reached the room at the top. It was a dome-shaped room with everything but the floor (and what was on the floor) made entirely out of glass. On the ground was a short pedestal, on which a blue light glowed. The angel silently walked to where the pedestal stood and concentrated.

As if it could read Angemon's mind, a beam of electric blue light shot out from the pedestal and widened until there was just enough room for someone to walk out of. A familiar, diminuitive, caped shadow appeared in the center, its edges becoming sharper and more defined as every second passed. With a dissolving sound, the light vanished, and an old friend of the angels and the half-angel stood where the beam of light had been.

"Wizardmon," the angel addressed the young sorcerer.

"Angemon," replied Wizardmon, seeing that since Angemon's face was solemn, this was not the time to be joyful about the reunion. "How come you summoned me? Is something the matter?"

"Yes…" replied Angemon, his mind seeming distant. "Yes, there is. Follow me." He escorted the wizard down the staircases and hallways until they reached the door at the end. He opened it to reveal that although Angewomon still lay motionless in the bed, Myotismon had stood up and appeared fretful and even to be _panicking_ for the first time ever.

"Angemon!" exclaimed the vampire, rushing over to the angel and motioning to where his bride lay. "It's Angewomon… I'm so afraid of what it is…"

The angel, though feeling less discontent that his companion had awoken, was still overly concerned about his female counterpart. "Yes, Myotismon… I know… that is why I've summoned Wizardmon to help."

Wizardmon glanced at the angelic ones. "Me?…" He sounded taken aback at the thought of being treated as a doctor, but if it was for his best friend, then he would have to put his knowledge to the test. He gathered all his power and walked over to the bed. Then he removed every bedcover until he could clearly view the angel's entire body. He ran his hands over her and murmured an incantation, seemingly in a trance. Something began to glow an eerie, sickening green, but it was unknown to the others in the room. The incantation grew louder, and the tempo gradually quickened. Angemon and Myotismon exchanged glances, partially wondering what would become of Angewomon, but also wishing they knew exactly what Wizardmon was doing.

"Angemon?…" asked the vampire.

"Yes?" wondered the angel, appearing concerned for him but really for his own counterpart.

"Are you… familiar with… with… a dimension known as… the Dark Ocean?"

Before Angemon could answer, Wizardmon climbed off the bed and Angewomon awoke, gathering enough strength to prop herself up. She pulled the covers over her and rested her head back.

Wizardmon blinked his jade-green eyes, then looked into the desperate, wide, sapphire-blue ones of Myotismon, as well as Angemon's, who were hidden beneath his silver helmet. After gathering the heart to break the news, he sighed and said, "I can honestly say that Angewomon is not going to die…"

The other two breathed a sigh of relief.

"…yet," added the wizard, knowing what looks would riddle their faces. "She… was infected. Unfortunately, not by any _man-made computer virus_, which are curable by digital remedies. This… was a _digimon-made_ virus…" He glared at the vampire. "…_spawned by Myotismon!_"

The vampire grew so unbelievably pale, his skin almost became transparent. "I… _WHAT!_"

The wizard, though he had grown more amiable towards the vampire over the months of his guardianship, suddenly grew bitter once again. "You have infected Angewomon! _With the virus you created!_ And to make matters even more drastic than before, _she is pregnant with your child!_"

A gasp filled the room, and Angemon grew nearly paralyzed with rage. He advanced on Myotismon, who backed away from intimidation, shock, and fear, until the vampire's back was against a window. "You… _bastard,_" was what the angel managed to say, intimidating everyone in the room because he had never dared curse before. "You _miserable… loathesome… cruel fiend!_ First you fill her with children, then you infect all of them with your own virus… _YOU ARE KILLING YOUR OWN CHILDREN!_"

Myotismon stammered, "I—I didn't know—" before his scar began to glow more vividly than ever, burning deep into him again. Angemon was so overcome with fury, he thought the vampire deserved every last wave of pain from his mark.

"It's just like you to do something like that, _Myotismon_." Angemon spit out the vampire's name. "Even when you were still AngeMyotismon, I knew that you were not one to be trusted… and today you have proven me correct. _No one in the history of the UNIVERSE_ would do something that cruel… that heartless!"

"I didn't… do it on purpose—"

"What makes you think I'll actually _believe_ that, you womanizing freak?" Below them, the cloud spawned thunder and lightning to emphasize the rage he felt, and even the weather in the digital world felt the angel's wrath. "You were never an angel. You're not even a Vaccine type—_you're a VIRUS!_"

_A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…_

"You are not one of us! You never were! And now, you never will be _again! HAND OF FATE!_"

Before Myotismon could react, he saw a fist, then a beam of light heading straight towards his chest, forcing him back with such great might that the window shattered and the vampire fell to the balcony one floor below them. Glass rained down on him, cutting his limbs and slicing his garments. Angemon flew downward onto it, relishing the sight of Myotismon cowering before him, begging for forgiveness, holding one hand over his head and the other extended forward. Trembling, he glanced upward, and in an instant, he stood up and prepared to fight back, whether he wanted to or not. A rope of Crimson Lightning fell out of his right hand, and Angemon's fist began to glow.

"Don't you ever die?" demanded the angel. "HAND OF FATE!"

A beam of gold light flashed out of his fist, and hit… nothing. Angemon was slightly taken aback and assumed that the vampire had flown out of the way, but there was no evidence that he had. He glanced around, but saw no sign of him.

"_Are you familiar with a dimension known as the Dark Ocean?"_

Angemon lowered his arms in defeat. He knew it then.

_The vampire didn't die._

_

* * *

_

To be continued…


	3. The Ocean Beyond

A/N: Thank you to vampirelucemon and Mariella for reviewing! It's nice to see someone who's actually interested in continuing the DA series. Please, don't hesitate to review! And just to let you know, I'll be updating at least once every two weeks or so, but it depends on how many activities I have. Here is chapter three. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3

The Ocean Beyond

_A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…_

Angemon's spiteful utterance reverberated through the air, which seemed to reflect them back at an either greater amplitude.

_A Virus… a Virus… a Virus…_

Not a Vaccine… not even a Data… but _a Virus_.

_You are not one of us! You never were!_

_ You are killing your own children!_

Even when you were still AngeMyotismon, I knew that you were not one to be trusted… 

_ You are not one of us! You never were!_

A Virus… a Virus… a Virus… 

Every single word spat out by Angemon seemed to strike Myotismon through his burning scar into his heart and bring tears to his eyes. He saw nothing ahead of him; nothing behind him; nothing above him… except a vision of Angemon spun by his mind. The memories of everything the angel had done to him seemed to rush at him and surround him with an overwhelming sense of failure, from the moment prior to this when he fell into pure darkness to nearly a year ago when he first encountered Angemon and WereGarurumon in Tokyo. Nothing could have defeated him…

His sense of failure grew into vindication. He clenched his fists together and clamped his jaw shut, breathing through his nose like a fierce bull about to charge at a matador. All of a sudden, the opaque, black haze that surrounded him seemed to thin out, and Myotismon could see the outline of a rocky shore with what appeared to be a Dark Tower atop it, standing on the edge like a sentry.

_I don't want to… but I despise Angemon for what he did to me…_ he thought to himself, seeing everything before him grow clearer. All of a sudden, he felt himself plunging into water so cold, it felt like liquid nitrogen against his bare skin. The vampire glanced downwards and saw that the water was not exactly water; more like liquid metal which reflected the grey tones of the sky above it. In front of him, a cape jutted out of a larger continent and into the turbulent water as the horrid waves crashed against the massive shale plates of rock that lined it. A lighthouse sat calmly on the edge of the cape, emitting beams of black light which gave the illusion of a negative photograph.

"_Are you familiar with a dimension known as the Dark Ocean?"_

"What have I done?" Angemon sat on the railing of the balcony and buried his face shamefully in his hands. His wings fell limp and cloaked his back. Although he never cried, he felt enough emotions convulsing inside him that he could have if he desired.

Rainfall.

The sound of rain hitting the ground echoed in the angel's ears, though the cloud was digital and space was infinite. In the digital world, a gentle rain washed away the soiled ground to escort new life.

Angemon shook his head in his palms. "What have I done?" he repeated to himself before removing his helmet and placing it among the shards on the glass-littered, marble floor. Then he covered his eyes with his hands once again, feeling how cold they were against his burning eyes. "He was an angel… like myself… and… and…"

Suddenly his guilt switched to another recollection from four centuries prior to this event; before he knew that he had been assigned to Takeru Takaishi as a digital partner; before the vampire had even digivolved from his DemiDevimon stage; before the digital world had even completed rebuilding itself from the thousands of wars between the Digimon; before peace emerged in the digital world only to be disturbed by a greater evil, leading to more…

_PyroAngemon._

Whatever had become of him?

Whatever had Angemon done to him?

Whatever had Angemon done to ruin everything, to change everything that the heavenly kingdom of Civitas Dei stood for?

* * *

Four hundred years ago in the digital world, the Angel Digimon in Civitas Dei and the lesser earthly Digimon below them were still intertwined in their worlds—reminiscent of the Old Testament in the Bible, where God spoke freely to His people and angels ran up and down staircases from Heaven to Earth… Angels spoke freely with the Data and Vaccine Digimon below and intervened with the threatening Viruses who were incomparable to the malevolence in the present day…

Both Angemon and PyroAngemon were two of the twelve members of the Grand Councel of Angels. Headed by Seraphimon, the Grand Angel of the Digital World, the twelve Angel Digimon were like the Parliament of Civitas Dei—enforcing the unbroken laws of the heavens; advising Seraphimon as well as the lesser Angel Digimon and even a small number of earthly digital beings; being the eyes, ears, and voice of Seraphimon. For centuries and even millennia, these twelve angels—Angemon, Angewomon, MarineAngemon, PyroAngemon, FloraAngewomon, Pegasusmon, Nefertimon, Auroramon, Estrellamon, Ophanimon, Cherubimon, and ArchAngemon—had worked together harmoniously.

Unfortunately, as even the most beautiful of songs must end, this harmony led to a discord so sharp, it upset the entire balance between the digital heavens and the rest of the digital world.

Like Heaven had its fallen angel Lucifer, Civitas Dei had its share of rogue angels, but it seemed that all had been cast down to Earth to become Virus digimon or sent through the Gate of Destiny into the Dark Ocean… all except one.

_PyroAngemon_.

Had it been him?

_No._

Angemon thought it had been the fiery one. Hell was described as a roaring inferno filled with torturous fire and brimstone. The colors of evil had always been blood-red and black as a demon's heart. With PyroAngemon's tousled, coal-black hair and the crimson undertones of his attire, he stood out against the whites, blues, and pastels of the other members of the Grand Council. Angemon _knew_ that PyroAngemon would be up to no good.

On that fateful day, as the sky's hues changed from clear blue to a blazing spectrum of golds and scarlets, the Council were seated in their room—a room with a crystal ceiling supported by Ionic columns, a fountain in the center of the marble floor—on a balcony atop the Grand Palace that overlooked all of the world. Twelve silver thrones draped in twelve different colors of cloth were arranged in a semicircle before Seraphimon's golden throne draped in white. Eleven of the twelve thrones had an angel seated in it. Seraphimon's was vacant, for he was intervening in an inevitable war, which was understandable. The one draped in crimson was empty, and that spawned a different reaction.

"PyroAngemon again!" murmured ArchAngemon, who was the eldest member as well as the first chosen. "As a member of the Council," he announced to the other angels, "he must learn that he must attend the meetings, or else have a plausible excuse for not doing so. Does he not realize that he is dangerously close to expulsion?"

"ArchAngemon, please," wheedled Auroramon, who seemed to be the most liberal and forgiving of others' faults. "Can't you give him another chance? He is the newest member, after all…"

"Auroramon, do you not realize that he has been a member for one hundred years already, and he is repeadedly missing our evening gatherings?" ArchAngemon pointed out. "Not only has he done so, but where was he when we fought Apollyonmon? Where was he when the Great Flood threatened to wipe out half of the digital world?"

"Fiddling while Rome burned," murmured Pegasusmon.

"In other words," said Nefertimon from beside the winged horse, "finding his own, more 'important' activities instead of being loyal to the Council."

"I am perfectly aware of what you mean," retorted Auroramon, hints of condescention in her voice. "I still believe that as angels, we must be tolerant of our own kind. Angemon, I have overheard you comparing PyroAngemon to the Devil simply because his element is _fire_. That is nothing but a _stereotype_!"

As the angels quarreled, Angemon stared to the east, knowing that there was something amiss in that very place, unaware that the creator of celestial phenomena had made a reference to him.

"Do you remember, Auroramon, the virus that was set loose in our kingdom and… killed… three of our own kind?" questioned Nefertimon. "Only an angel can create a virus potent enough to wipe out another angel. Not even the strongest Virus type can do so. I have a premonition that PyroAngemon is attempting to wipe out the angels to bring the digital world to an end."

"I think he's too lazy to do that," remarked Estrellamon. "He doesn't even come to our meetings half the time—"

"What do you think he might be doing?" hinted the sphynx digimon.

Angemon remained silent; he stared at a patch of cloud that had suddenly turned black, and the color was bleeding through to the rest of it.

_PyroAngemon. The Fallen Angel._

Without his intuition and obligation to hold him back, he left his throne, sprinted to a gap in the columns, leapt off the balcony, and flew quickly to the scene. He was horrified—yet not surprised—to see none other than PyroAngemon standing over a lesser Angemon (whose hair was white and whose clothing was crimson instead of cerulean) who was on his back, supporting himself with his elbows. PyroAngemon withdrew a sword with a golden blade from the scabbard secured around his left leg, then pointed it at the other angel's neck. Fearfully, the lesser Angemon tried to back away, his mouth contorted and his teeth clenched. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as the blade began to glow and small flames flickered on the metal.

"Say your prayers, Angemon," threatened the angel of fire, bringing the blade closer to the lesser Angemon's neck, so close one inch separated life from death.

"PYROANGEMON! _WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!_" bellowed Angemon, causing PyroAngemon's head to turn and the lesser Angemon to back away, stand up, and fly off.

PyroAngemon glared at Angemon, then shot off like a fireball in pursuit of the crimson angel. Angemon flew off like a white comet into the sunset, chasing after the fallen PyroAngemon.

"_Hand of Fate!_" He thrust his fist at the air in front of him, but PyroAngemon had transformed himself into pure flame, and the attack phased right through him and shot off into the distance. PyroAngemon glared at him and flew even faster until he had nearly caught up with the lesser Angemon, who appeared desperate to escape him.

"_Heaven's Flame!"_ PyroAngemon underwent a further transformation, as his golden flames turned a bright white and his six wings turned into blue-hot fires so hot, everything that touched them turned to ash. He seemed to increase in speed, and he flew around the lesser Angemon, igniting the feathers on _his_ wings until they became nothing but fire themselves. Angemon looked on with horror and wished he knew how to extinguish them as the lesser Angemon cried out for his life, writhing, convulsing, then falling onto the surface of the cloud, directly on the edge. His six wings had become featherless rods protruding from his back, as black as coal, moving on their own, then falling onto his back.

Angemon could not avert his eyes, and he knew that he had to save his lesser counterpart lest he fall to the surface and die. He rushed towards him, but did not do so in time.

PyroAngemon raised his sword and held it over the lesser Angemon, feebly kneeling on the surface of the cloud, his entire body streaked with burns and ash, begging for forgiveness with the tears streaming from his eyes, for he knew of a ritual that was feared among all angels in Civitas Dei.

"Angemon, with the power of Seraphimon and the Grand Council, I hereby deprive you of your title of 'Angel' and forever banish you from the digital heavens!" PyroAngemon's sword glowed, and he swung it until it hit the top of the other Angemon's helmet, which fell apart to reveal a head of silvery hair and two crimson eyes, as well as a small pair of horns that Angemon could not see. As the lesser Angemon's mouth still formed "No, no, please, no!", PyroAngemon callously sliced off all six wings, one by one.

And then—

A bolt of lightning struck the lesser Angemon, who was no longer called Angemon. One millisecond later, all that remained was a thin pillar of white smoke.

The fallen angel was gone, never to return to Civitas Dei again.

Angemon was appalled. Horrified. Furious. He stared at PyroAngemon, who still glared at him. Then, for one brief moment, the fiery angel surrendered himself.

The trial was that night. Ten of the twelve Council members were seated in the courtroom, with Seraphimon at the highest podium and Angemon holding the diety of the flame before them in shackles and handcuffs. It was extremely similar to that of AngeMyotismon's trial four hundred years following, but the punishment was much more humiliating.

PyroAngemon spent hours trying to explain himself—that the Angemon from whom he had removed the helmet and wings was a fallen angel, and that very Angemon was the one who created the virus because he wanted to wipe out the angels and control the entire digital world. PyroAngemon sent him to the remote File Island to detain the fallen angel and ensure that he would never escape.

However, Angemon utilized every piece of evidence that counted against him, even those that did not relate to the event involving the other Angemon. Because Angemon was more loyal to the Council and had established a stronger bond with the other angels on it, the others believed him.

Only Angewomon and Auroramon had sympathized with PyroAngemon.

With one decree, Seraphimon had expelled PyroAngemon from the Council, replacing him with an angel named Metatrimon. In the years to come, PyroAngemon was considered a fallen angel who was let off too easily, a vigilante who played by his own rules, and even the demon who wanted to control the entire digital world. The kingdom of Civitas Dei was shut off from the earth so no other rogue angels could enter or even re-enter… all because of Angemon and his fiery brother.

* * *

_Even Vaccines like PyroAngemon can seem evil… but unlike the Virus types, they commit wrongful actions through their good intentions._

_ That fallen Angemon had become the very Devimon whom the digi-destined fought on File Island. He had been defeated by the very angel who almost saved him._

_ Still, Pyro's actions were unforgivable. He should have had the authority of the council before condemning Devimon to File Island._

_ And yet… through his death at the hands of Myotismon Shadow Mode, he might have saved Angewomon's life by letting me know where she was._

_"Earth."_

_He would have broken his promise no matter what he had done._

_ He had no chance to repent._

_ He might have been sent to the Dark Ocean as well…_

_

* * *

_

In a room below the surface of the rocky cape, InfernoDevimon entered through the doorway and saw that the DemiDevimon was still there, still at his desk, but not seated as usual. He was perched on top, reading a plan that he had drawn up long ago… when he was still an Ultimate. InfernoDevimon cleared his throat, and the imp glanced upwards.

"Yes?" he asked in a raspy voice, causing a shiver to travel down the demon's spine as if he were still speaking in the voice of his Ultimate form. "What do you wish of me, InfernoDevimon?"

"Lord DemiDevimon," said the demon, bowing adamantly, "Your pawn… he has arrived. He is making his way to shore as we speak. I saw him from the window on the upper floor."

"Excellent," said DemiDevimon, referring to the fact that Myotismon was in the Dark Ocean. He could not have cared less about his own minions.

"Do you want me to…" began InfernoDevimon, before the Rookie held out a wing to silence him.

"Not at the moment," replied DemiDevimon, glowing the same ice-blue as his eyes. "For now, I would like you and the rest of the Demon Corps to remain out of sight. I will personally bring Myotismon to you." His wings and body began to transform. "For the present… I shall be feeding directly off of his darkness… you shall soon see me in my full glory!"

_Myotismon…_

InfernoDevimon wondered where he had heard that name before. It was more than merely _déjà vu_—long ago, he believed he had been familiar with the vampire.

_I only serve the one named Daemon!_

But had he? It seemed that a long time ago… he was called by another name… that was when he knew…

_Your scar for him is merely a blemish on the surface… but what you did to him inside is absolutely priceless._

He had not given Myotismon the scar on purpose…

_Won't you get even stronger if I attack an angel…?_

InfernoDevimon was the only one who knew. It was not his intention to scar Myotismon. It seemed to him that the vampire was the last being that he would ever want to hurt in that manner. If Angewomon and Angemon had not been with him…

_The scar was meant for Angemon._

_

* * *

_

"Angemon?" Wizardmon floated down from Angewomon's room and gently landed on the railing of the balcony. Cat-like, he sat down beside his good friend, who appeared to have been crying for the first time.

The angel looked off to the side, his helmet off his head. His beautiful face was streaked with tears, and the stray strands of his long hair clung to it. "Wizardmon…" he murmured, staring upwards, then at the place where the vampire last stood. "I made a horrible mistake…"

"Angemon, Myotismon created that virus centuries ago… I remember perfectly… he had no intention of…"

"It is not just him, my good friend… _PyroAngemon_."

"Who is PyroAngemon?"

"A fallen angel… I will tell you about him."

* * *

After what had seemed like hours, the vampire finally waded onto the sandy beach, out of which the rocky cape protruded. His legs were exhausted, as the sea seemed to drain him of his energy. They felt as if they were made out of the very waters of the Dark Ocean itself. He collapsed onto the wet sands of the shore, leaving an indentation of his body and the side of his head. The grains slid around and chafed his skin, while his own white cloak weighted him down, pressing him onto the grey sand. He lay there for several minutes until a voice startled him.

"Who is that lying on the sand? Are you a Digimon?"

"Who said that?" The vampire gathered the strength to lift his upper body, then glanced around. Grey grains still clung to what touched the beach.

"I did!" exclaimed a childish voice from near his feet. The being seemed to giggle.

Myotismon turned around, then saw a Poyomon on the shore, jumping around at his feet. He turned over and sat on the beach, still weighted by his white cape. He was slightly taken aback to discover that this particular Digimon infant was not the usual breed found in Primary Village. Although everything in the Dark Ocean had undertaken grey hues, this Poyomon's ice-blue eyes stood out starkly against its skin. (Digimon were always ungendered at their infant stage—gender was generally determined at their In-Training or Rookie stages.) It resembled a blob of ink with sapphires stuck in the front. What was most astounding was not the fact that this Poyomon was discolored—it was the exact breed of Poyomon that Myotismon had been as an infant.

The vampire's mind could not hold back his agonizing past in Primary Village eight hundred years before, when he was a Poyomon. Because he was coal-black with sapphire eyes instead of pure white with ebony eyes, the other Baby Digimon tormented and teased him. Even the Elecmon who guarded the village at the time deftly ignored him. Poyomon could not have done anything, for all he was capable of doing was floating. He could not even speak or move, much less fight back with words or violence.

_This Poyomon must have suffered like I had as a child…_

The vampire immediately took pity on the poor infant. "Hello, my child," he said, attempting to smile at it.

Poyomon did not even seem the slightest bit frightened by Myotismon's pearly fangs. "Are you… a vampire?"

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Myotismon, staring at his boots. The silver bat and moon were appallingly tarnished, but he did not care. "I am supposed to be an angel, but it was announced to me that I am actually… a Virus. More vampire than angel, more beast than man."

"You don't seem like a beast to me," remarked the infant Digimon. "You're very beautiful."

Myotismon had never recalled being called beautiful by anyone other than Angewomon, and was abashed by this. "I… am?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," replied Poyomon. "Even with your fangs, you have the face of an angel. I think you actually are one."

_You have the face of an angel. I think you actually are one._

_ You are not one of us! You never were!_

Angemon's and Poyomon's speeches seemed to fight each other for a brief moment, then die down. He dared not tell this young infant about his diabolical actions in the past… bloodlust; megalomania; torture; _rape_… and never about the virus and Angewomon… his trial and banishment… anything…

"You must remember that beauty is only skin deep," the vampire suddenly explained, then decided to change the subject. "Why are you in the Dark Ocean? It does not seem like an innocent child should be condemned like this…"

"I was tormented in Primary Village… and…" Poyomon's quivering voice dropped to a whisper, "…I attacked the other infants… then I got so scared of Elecmon I… I just…" It burst into tears. The vampire placed his hand on it to calm it down and let it know that he felt its pain.

"I, too, was a Poyomon like you," he said. "I was tormented beyond what can be described."

Poyomon sniffled and glanced up at its new mentor. "You were?"

The vampire nodded once.

"What happened after that?"

"Many, many terrible things that I do not wish to discuss with you. You are too young to understand some, and others, I wish for you not to know of ever."

Poyomon said nothing. It understood.

"Tell me, Poyomon, where must I stay?" he wondered, feeling a sudden draft and seeing that the sky, though blanketed with clouds, was growing darker.

"Wait… what is your name?"

"My name is Myotismon Celestial Mode, but I am merely known as Myotismon."

"I've heard of you! You were in all the scary stories Elecmon told me! But I never thought you were… you know… _real_. And if you were, I thought you'd be dressed in a blue suit and a black cape, and wear a bright red mask, and be followed everywhere by bats!"

"That would have been true one year ago, but I was transformed into an angel and… I changed my ways."

"So… you're not mean anymore?"

"No…" _I sincerely hope not._

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I do not know…"

Poyomon remembered what it was going to say. "Oh yeah! I think the ocean's been waiting for you! Do you see that lighthouse over there? The one that shines the black light?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think that lighthouse has been reserved just for you by the leader." He paused. "Myotismon?"

"Yes?"

"Um… do you think… I… can I stay in the lighthouse? Just for tonight? It gets really cold out here at night, and there are monsters in the forest and giant squids in the sea that try to eat me!"

"Of course you can, Poyomon. You can be my companion."

"Really? I can stay with you then?"

"Yes, Poyomon. You may."

Poyomon let out a delighted squeal, then floated onto the vampire's shoulder as he tried to stand up. When he managed to do so, he stumbled a few times before regaining his balance. He walked along the shore until he reached the cape. The climb onto the rocks was quite arduous, and it was nearly nightfall and the temperature had dropped to freezing before he made it.

The door to the lighthouse opened on its own, and light flooded in. The main room seemed to have been furnished on its own, with lamps shaped like candles, comfortable leather chairs, shelves full of books, walls decorated with pictures of beach scenes, and a wooden floor with a crimson rug. The glow alone provided warmth to the vampire, who regretted wearing such a scanty ensemble in such a cold environment. He was astonished that a structure in a dimension so dismal would be so pleasantly furnished.

"You look like you could use a bath," remarked Poyomon. "Maybe there's one upstairs."

Myotismon looked at himself to see that his entire front side was covered with sand and dirt, and a few strands of black seaweed clung to his legs. He smiled warmly at the Poyomon and immediately went up the stairs.

Hours later, the vampire and the infant Digimon were in the single bedroom that was just under the light. He wore a pair of silken nightclothes over his dried Celestial Mode ensemble (minus the cape, boots, and gloves, of course) and was settled in a rustic feather bed with warm covers and down pillows, and his pet had curled up at the foot. Myotismon had found himself to be quite content after bathing and settling in the living room with an ancient, yellowed piece of literature and a glass of brandy, which had tasted so much different from wine or blood.

"This is such a lovely place, I don't ever want to leave!" exclaimed Poyomon, gazing at the vampire.

"Nor do I, Poyomon," replied Myotismon. He turned off the light on his bedside table and was so exhausted, he fell asleep within a minute. The candles dimmed on their own, leaving Poyomon alone, still watching its mentor.

Poyomon floated off the bed, and it began to quiver with excitement. All of a sudden, it began to glow ice-blue, bathing the room in its light.

Then the light died down.

Poyomon was no longer there…

* * *

To be continued… 


	4. Two Lives, One Mon

A/N: I'm in the process of finding colleges, so this will take a while to update. This chapter is entirely Myo-centric. Hold on tight, and keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times. :P

OK, I know that I wrote a fic entitled "Myotismon: Two Lives, One Mon" in which I attempted to cover what had occurred in his past, and some of my theories have changed since then. The events in MTLOM are not canon with the series, and the events in these flashbacks do not match those of MTLOM. They are going to be a lot more elaborate and about fifteen times darker. And… I got some inspiration from the Harry Potter books, if you're an HP fan. One more thing—Toxidramon's "Flame of Grendel" attack is a reference to the dragon from _Beowulf_. Read it sometime. :) Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4

Two Lives, One Mon

Myotismon awoke to a bitter frost, feeling himself surrounded by the cold, dry air. He shivered and tried to curl up more tightly inside his covers, but, to his dismay, what once had been a velvety down comforter was nothing more than a thin, ragged sheet. Wishing that his nightclothes provided more warmth, he felt his arm touch his bare chest. His eyes sprang open to see that everything had been a clever illusion, and all that remained in the room was a small bed with a hard pillow and a thin sheet; two musty windows covered with grime and dust; and several torches on the wall for inadequate lighting.

"Good morning, sir," said a childish voice that sounded similar to Poyomon's, only it seemed to have matured several years. The vampire sat upright, looked at the foot of his bed, and pushed his insufficient cover off of him to see a Tokomon (and, in addition, that his Celestial Mode costume was on him once again.) "Remember me? I used to be Poyomon, but I finally digivolved through the night!" It giggled. Although it had the same shape (as well as the crooked teeth) of a typical Tokomon, this was definitely the In-Training form of Poyomon, for its skin was as black as night and its eyes were the same ice-blue shade as its Poyomon form. "You can call me DarkTokomon!"

"Wha… what happened to the room?"

"You think _I_ know? I was asleep, like you!"

"Ex_cuse_ me for being so damn _inquisitive_." The vampire practically spat out the words, which he had not done since he had resided in Nightmare Castle.

DarkTokomon did not appear flustered, but suddenly it assumed a defensive pose, but then its countenance softened, as if its attitude suddenly turned. It jumped affectionately into its mentor's lap and gazed earnestly into his eyes. "Maybe the room changes on its own," DarkTokomon suggested. "Maybe by tonight, it'll get better. Don't you hope so, Myo-sama?"

"Yes…" Myotismon's voice sounded distant. "Yes, I do…"

_What could possibly be the matter with me? I don't ever remember answering back like that in this form before… This… the virus… Angewomon carrying my child without her consent… Goddramon knows if she's even awake to know it… or alive…_

Images flashed on and off through his mind like a horrific slide show. Every human who had been infected by this virus writhed in agony as their flesh burned… screams of pain and anguish filled his head, and as each one died, his scar began to scorch him just a little bit more… The colors became more vivid, and every staggering breath could be heard as the syndrome devoured at them from the inside—

"Myotismon?" DarkTokomon's voice brought him back to the Dark Ocean. "Didn't you hear me? I said, can we go take a walk along the shore? There's something I'd like to show you."

"…I could use some fresh air," Myotismon finally replied.

* * *

The In-Training and the Ultimate walked along the beach, saying not a word. The crashing, obsidian waves washed away their footprints in the dismally grey sand. Waves constantly rolled in and pulled themselves back into the ocean from whence they came with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. The vampire stared at them for a long time as his blue eyes reflected the sight before him. The Dark Ocean was endless, like his own eternal afterlife.

He was cursed.

That was what he was— cursed.

Immortality was a fate worse than death.

If only he had been aware of it before he digivolved.

All Baby Digimon choose their paths when they leave Primary Village. From the very second they digivolve to In-Training, they head down the road of life, which branches off into a multitude of forks. The path they choose to walk along determined their Rookie stages onward.

Poyomons were no exceptions, but the Digimon to which they digivolved were special. Poyomons have potential to become the most powerful humanoid Digimon in existence, including Angemon and Devimon. However, they must choose their paths in Primary Village, for their In-Training forms always differ. A Poyomon was most apt to digivolving to Magemon, and then Auramon, from which it would branch off into Bakemon or Wizardmon. If its heart was not laden with sin or regret, it could become a Tokomon… then Patamon, then Angemon or Pegasusmon, then perhaps Seraphimon or Shokkumon. Or, perhaps a Nyaromon, then Salamon, then Gatomon, and then Angewomon, Silphymon, or Nefertimon. Only the most evil digivolved to DarkTokomon, then DemiDevimon.

When Myotismon had been a DarkTokomon, he had dreamt of becoming a Devidramon. Dragons had always been the most frightening creatures, in his opinion, and his fears were realized when he was taken captive by the half-human, half-dragon Toxidramon. He had been whipped for insubordination. He had once been whipped by his master. He was a slave to a dragon. _If I could digivolve to Devidramon_, the young In-Training thought, _all Digimon would bow to me from fear…_

And so he had. DarkTokomon became DemiDevimon, who digivolved to Devidramon after years as a Rookie passed. Devidramon had witnessed many deletions at the hands of other Digimon while on missions for Toxidramon, and then as he sat in fear that fateful night, he wished beyond belief that he would never die. _I want to possess power of a magnitude so great, I would never die. Reconfigurement is all I could hope for, but that is an impediment. I did not live for so long to be crushed like a bug at the hands of someone more powerful than I. I endured such hardship as a slave, and all for a digivolution to Champion. I wish that my Ultimate form could have power beyond belief, and so frightening terror is stricken into the hearts of others merely by uttering its name. I wish that my Ultimate form could be… immortal. There is nothing worse than death._

If a DemiDevimon had made it so far as to digivolve to Devidramon, the next link in the chain of natural evolution could either be MegaDramon or GigaDramon, both of whom were metal-plated Chinese dragons who possessed the power to fly, much like Devidramon. These creatures were extremely rare and powerful, but none who existed had ever digivolved to Mega. There had been no other known forms… until the bat-winged dragon digivolved to Myotismon on that fateful day, and became immortal, for one cannot kill the undead.

"Myotismon!" exclaimed DarkTokomon, causing the vampire to slip out of his musings. The In-Training stood next to a tidepool that rested in a small pedestal of rock. The water in it was so still, it gave the illusion of ice or black marble. "I want to show you this!"

"It's a tidepool," said Myotismon. "What, might I ask, is special about it?"

"It's not the tidepool itself," said DarkTokomon philisophically, "but what's inside it!"

After approaching the pool, Myotismon glanced inside and saw nothing except the curvature of the tidepool's bottom, which was surprisingly smooth, through the murky water. "I see nothing," he said.

"Not even your reflection?" wondered DarkTokomon.

"It is not possible. I am a vampire."

"You should still be able to see yourself. Touch the surface, and concentrate. You'll see something."

"What will I see?"

"I don't know. It depends on who touches it. For me, it always replays… the time I…" DarkTokomon's face donned a pained expression.

Myotismon said nothing. He had been about to touch the surface when he drew his hand away. He knew what the vision would be for him.

"Yours might be a good thing," suggested DarkTokomon. "I'm a black Tokomon. I've done horrible things. You're an angel…"

"A _fallen _angel," sighed Myotismon as he stared into the pool again. "There are times when your true self is masked. Even if my name is Myotismon Celestial Mode, I am nothing but a vampire clad in white and silver. I mean, look at me, DarkTokomon!"

"I see an angel," replied the In-Training. "It looks as if you've been spun from the heavens themselves. Your skin is blue like the sky on a clear day. Your hair is golden, like the rays of the sun. Even your eyes remind me of twilight, and I don't see a scar on your chest. I see a badge of honor."

"Yes, but as you can clearly see, _I have fangs_!" challenged Myotismon.

"And I'm black with blue eyes," juxtaposed DarkTokomon. "That's just the way we were generated."

"Are you aware that you have just contradicted yourself? You said you were evil, and then you stated that your outward appearance contrasted your personality!"

"No, I said that I only did horrible things. That is different from being evil. Even the most angelic of us can commit wrongful actions, and the most demonic can even act righteous at times."

"I apologize, DarkTokomon… for you see, when I was a mere infant, I was led to believe that being a black Poyomon meant that I was evil. And now… I do not know what to believe about myself. I have spent nearly eight hundred years as a prisoner… a prisoner of my own self-contempt that stemmed into hatred for others… and I have committed the most grievous actions against those who were loyal to me… they were so frightened they could not even utter my name without breaking down…

"And then a Digimon named Wizardmon cast a powerful spell on me, which separated the yang from yin and transformed me into a half-angel, half-vampire named AngeMyotismon, while my other half became Myotismon Shadow Mode. I slowly transcended into a more angelic being, but Wizardmon recited the counterspell and transformed me back into this… fortunately, my Shadow Mode was defeated, and Azulongmon appointed me a guardian angel… but there is still something inside me that craves my former life. I am told that… I might still be evil. I _am_ a Virus, after all…"

"You don't seem like a Virus, Myo. You seem like the most angelic Digimon of all."

"Yes, but remember, you have resided in the Dark Ocean nearly your entire life, and most of the Digimon who are sent here… have lost their way and ventured onto the wrong path…"

"I'm surprised, for you have made amends, it seems."

"Yes, but I have done a number of cruel things in my life."

Although his mind still remained in the archives of his actions, the vampire lightly touched the surface of the water with the tip of his finger. The porcelain surface began to ripple as sparks flew through his hand. Myotismon peered into the pool and was immediately immersed in his past. _He knew it. This was his most agonizing memory that he struggled to block out of his mind._

_

* * *

_

It was in the dungeon of a castle that would eventually be known as Nightmare Castle, but the atmosphere was choked with dark green smoke and the malodorous stench of a sewer pipe. The slate walls were lined with prison cells on one half; manacles and weapons hung on the other. In the center of the circular foyer between the wooden door of the entrance and the dungeons themselves stood a DemiDevimon. He knew that the only use for this room was for confrontations, but his countenance showed no fear. Standing out starkly against his black exterior and the crimson interior of his wings was a pair of ice-blue eyes. A white fang glinted in the faint light. His left foot was pinned to the floor by a shackle, but DemiDevimon seemed to ignore this, as he concentrated on the faint booming that echoed through the chamber.

There were shouts growing louder and more distinct. Perspiration dripped down the Rookie's face beneath his black mask, but he merely clenched his teeth and prepared himself.

Numemon buzzed from inside the hall, and the heavy wooden door opened with a bang. The green piles of sludge spilled into the chamber and circled around DemiDevimon, taunting him.

"SILENCE!" boomed an authoritative voice that would have seemed more intimidating had it not sounded like a man who had been smoking all his life.

The Numemon grew silent and lined the walls as a dark green haze blew into the chamber, snaking through the air and reaching out to DemiDevimon like claws. The imp coughed, then he swatted them away and glared at the doorway as two blood-red eyes glowed through the toxic clouds, which billowed in as if part of a thunderstorm. The eyes grew larger as their owner drew closer, and finally the fog settled to reveal DemiDevimon's master.

This Virus Digimon was not one to be messed with, as he was Numemon's and Raremon's highly potent Mega stage. He possessed the upper body of a grown man, but with dark green scales covering every inch of skin; waist-length, yellowish-green, stringy hair; glowing crimson eyes; and the forked tongue of a snake. Torn bat wings the same color as his fog protruded from between his shoulder blades. Highly dangerous spikes whose color matched the wings lined his arms and back, telling his opponent to stay away. The body of a man fused into the neck of a dragon, whose skin was covered with scales and spikes, save the ribbed yellow flesh on his belly and his menacing red claws. This Digimon rarely utilized his powerful bodily weapons; his appearance was more than one could usually handle and could drive his opponents away. Even his servants dared not cross his path lest they be severely scolded or whipped by him. Still, a whipping was better than his Flame of Grendel or even more dreaded Toxic Crusher.

The half-man, half-monster Digimon loomed over DemiDevimon, dark smoke billowing out of his nostrils, seeming to relish the silence and suspence, expecting DemiDevimon to break down. The imp glared at him through his ice-blue eyes, not showing a sign of trepidation.

"Do you know why you are here, DemiDevimon?" interrogated the Mega, skulking around the batlike creature and not breaking eye contact.

"I do, Toxidramon," replied DemiDevimon.

"That's _LORD TOXIDRAMON!_" bellowed the evil dragon, flames spilling out of his mouth and vile tongue brushing against his servant's flesh. Immediately, he glanced at DemiDevimon, hoping that he would be shaking, but Toxidramon saw that he got barely more than a shudder. Toxidramon regained his composure and began speaking again. "DemiDevimon, if you know why I am confronting you, you will answer me."

_Insubordination._

The imp remained silent, and Toxidramon's patience began to wear thin.

"You, DemiDevimon, are here out of insubordination. You fooled one of my servants into believing I would allow you to leave your prison cell and attempted to escape. Didn't you?"

There was a pause.

Toxidramon lowered himself so that his face was less than a foot away from DemiDevimon's.

"Answer me," hissed the half-man, half-dragon.

DemiDevimon refused to speak. He knew that the consequences would be dire, but a voice deep inside the imp told him to keep his mouth shut, for if he was fortunate, he would die a hero. He glared even more intensely into Toxidramon's glowing crimson stare, and suddenly the dragon drew back and shuddered. DemiDevimon cracked a fanged smile.

"What the bloody hell did you DO!" bellowed Toxidramon, flames licking the air again.

"I did nothing!" exclaimed the imp, shocked that he had dared to speak.

"You did something…" growled Toxidramon. "I know you are lying to me, and I do not tolerate liars in my castle… get him, my Numemon servants! ATTACK!" He pointed at DemiDevimon.

Suddenly, the Numemon rushed at the imp, engulfing him in the most foul sludge imaginable, and pelting him with their own excrement. DemiDevimon could hear Toxidramon cackling maliciously through the shouts and cries of the Numemon surrounding him.

WHACK! A piece of pink Numemon shit struck DemiDevimon in the jaw, forcing him to fly backwards. His leg, still held firmly in the shackles, was nearly yanked out of its socket. A group of Numemon began kicking at him and punching him, hoping he would surrender. Their intentions were not to kill—merely hurt them enough to make the victim suffer.

DemiDevimon clenched his teeth as fiery tears filled his eyes. He opened them, boring his hatred directly into every one of his master's minions with his eyes while searching for a means of escape.

Suddenly, every final Numemon halted and were forced backwards, gasping as if an Arctic gale had entered their bodies and stunned them. Even DemiDevimon had been confused by this, but he seized the opportunity.

"EVIL WHISPER!" he shouted.

The waves emitted by his mouth completely petrified the Numemon momentarily, and in one second they regained their ability to move and instantly escaped, frightened by the immeasurable power of this Rookie.

Toxidramon's face wore an amused expression, but inside of him was a raging inferno. "DemiDevimon, from the moment I took you in as a servant, I knew that you would be unlike the others. I thought that I could mold you into a loyal minion, but your insubordination has proven otherwise. No other Digimon has been this… threatening or challenging to my authority in all the years I have ruled this land, and you leave me no other choice than to lock you away until you prove your worthiness to me. If I must give you daily whippings, then so be it. If I must starve you, then so be it. If I must repeatedly reconfigure you and keep your Digiegg in this castle forever, then—"

DemiDevimon's rage had grown as well. He realized that he was independent and would not allow himself to be under Toxidramon's command any longer. Without realizing the risk to his life, the imp attacked.

"DEMI DART!" he shouted, hurling a syringe at the beast. It punctured the hide on his upper left breast, and green sludge trickled out of the wound. Toxidramon ran a finger over it, then sniffed the liquid.

"You made me bleed," he growled through clenched teeth, wrenching the syringe out of his skin and dropping it onto the floor, where it dissolved. "Nobody makes me bleed my own blood and gets away with it! FLAME OF GRENDEL!"

DemiDevimon barely had time to leap out of the way as a green flame shot out of Toxidramon's mouth, missing him by inches and hitting the shackles instead. He could escape!

The door banged shut, and he was trapped in the chamber with Toxidramon. Quickly, DemiDevimon attempted to fly through the halls of the dungeons, dodging each lethal Flame of Grendel that was aimed at him. The stone walls broke off, the rubble burst into flames, and any Digimon who was hit directly was immediately paralyzed. He took whatever turns he could find, hoping that Toxidramon would not be able to find him. Unfortunately, the poisonous beast was directly on the imp's tail.

Suddenly, DemiDevimon reached a dead end. Three walls surrounded each side of him, and Toxidramon formed the fourth. The silhouette of him stood out against the light, and his blood-red eyes overpowered all.

"DemiDevimon, as you can see, you have been cornered," declared Toxidramon, green haze spilling out of his mouth. "Surrender and no one dies."

_Never._

The imp's independent streak was not about to end. If he had to die a hero, then so be it.

"NEVER!" he shouted, his cries echoing through the halls. He glared at Toxidramon, every ounce of hatred boring into the dragon and freezing him. Toxidramon cried out and covered his eyes, flames billowing out of his mouth and reducing the ceiling to a rain of stones. DemiDevimon cried out as one fell on his wing, but he refused to give up. He flew through the hole and found himself in his master's throne room. He saw the barred windows that could lead him to the outside world. His wing hurt like hell, but he tried even harder to flap up to the window. Finally, he reached one and wrapped a wing around the bar, panting heavily.

"You are not escaping," declared Toxidramon, rising out of the hole in the ceiling. He grabbed DemiDevimon by the leg and yanked him off the window. Then he hurled him to the floor. It felt as if the imp's head had been cracked open and he could not move any of his limbs. Bruised, bloody, and battered, he refused to surrender. He would die a hero.

"And I am not working for you!" he shouted. "DEMI DART!" He hurled another syringe at Toxidramon, but his master caught it and broke it apart. The grey liquid seeped to the floor.

"Don't think you can attack me twice and get away with it," chastised Toxidramon. "You had your chance, and now the penalties are serious."

Trembling, DemiDevimon held a wing in front of himself to shield himself.

"TOXIC CRUSHER!"

It all happened incredibly quickly, yet slowly and fluidly like a dream. A deadly green laser beam was blasted out of Toxidramon's hand and headed straight for DemiDevimon's face, forcing him against the stone wall. If it had not been for the mask, DemiDevimon would have been reconfigured. Instead, it bore right into his tender flesh, ripping it apart and causing blood to gush out. He turned his head aside as a reflex, dragging the beam across his face, between his eyes and ending on the left side. He screamed in agony from the searing pain eating away like acid, making the wound deeper and more agonizing than ever.

With one final ounce of strength, his ice-blue eyes froze Toxidramon so badly, the anthropomorphic beast cried out in agony, losing control of his attack. He blasted a hole in the wall with a more immense Toxic Crusher and created a wind that blew DemiDevimon out. The imp quickly slid down the mountain on which Toxidramon resided and landed in the heart of the forest, bleeding, moaning, and writhing in pain and agony.

He had been scarred for life, but the experience itself made him so much more powerful, the imp began to glow.

"Demidevimon, digivolve to… DEVIDRAMON!"

* * *

The scene in the tidepool rippled as if a stone had been dropped inside it, but it began to fast-forward to several months following the debacle. During this time, Devidramon had been rendered nearly blind and most likely would have died if not for Vegiemon, who found him lying lifelessly in the forest, moaning for water, after several days had passed. Vegiemon tied a white scarf over the dragon's eyes and agreed to let him stay in his and Digitamamon's diner as long as he needed, for the vegetable Digimon knew what it was like to be attacked so intensely. They even allowed him to eat there for free and regaled him with their stories, for they had always been more benevolent to those who had been blinded. However, they did not know that Toxidramon had been scouring Server for his lost slave.

Days passed, then weeks, then several months. Finally, one night, Vegiemon and Digitamamon decided that Devidramon's eyes had finally healed enough for him to remove the scarf and to finally leave the diner. They untied the white, blood-stained bandage, exposing the dragon's skin to air for the first time. He felt a draft as he opened his eyes. To his surprise, his eyesight was perfectly normal; perhaps he could see more clearly.

"Can you see?" wondered Digitamamon.

"Yes," answered Devidramon.

"Good!" exclaimed the egg, pushing the dragon towards the door. "Now you can leave!"

"Wait!" shouted Vegiemon, extending a vine to block the door. "Can't we let him stay one more night?"

Digitamamon sighed. "Fine, but don't you eat any more of our food."

"Don't think I will," muttered Devidramon.

Suddenly, he halted in his tracks as he caught sight of himself in a floor-length mirror. He was a majestic dragon with coal-black skin, except for the inside of his wings, which were blood-red. The bat wings that protruded from his head were the same color. Bright white teeth shone in his mouth, and two piercing ice-blue eyes stood out against everything, as usual. However, there was something there that also stood out, and that distracted Devidramon greatly.

A scar. A crimson scar shaped roughly like a lightning bolt spanned his face, between both eyes. This was more than a blemish; it was a memory of his former master, whom he loathed more than anything else in the digital world. It might have been a badge of courage, but this was also evidence that he was a servant who was attacked for insubordination.

Something was coming. Devidramon could sense it.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door, and the dragon knew that it was not a customer. There was something… urgent. He dashed to the kitchen to hide.

"Can't you read the sign?" the dragon could hear Digitamamon grousing. "We're CLOSED!"

"I'm not here to eat," stated the unmistakable voice of a Numemon.

Devidramon's heart began to pound in his throat. He did not want to return to Toxidramon, whom he knew wanted to kill him. He was afraid of death, and at this point he wished to be immortal.

_If I could choose my ultimate stage, it would be immortal. I would never die! I want to wipe out Toxidramon and all other Digimon who have tormented me so. No… I want them to work for me, so I can give them a taste of their own medicine. Regardless, I don't want to die… ever!_

"The master wants to know if you have seen a DemiDevimon," continued Numemon, breaking Devidramon's train of thought.

"I see a lot of DemiDevimons. What's it to you?"

"You see, Mr. Digitamamon, there was a DemiDevimon who escaped from Lord Toxidramon's castle. This one is unique—its coloring is black and red with ice-blue eyes, and it was given a nasty blow to the face, right across the eyes. Lord Toxidramon believes that there might be a scar there."

"A scar, you say? And what, pray tell, does DemiDevimon digivolve to?"

"It depends, really. Either Devimon or Devidramon—"

"Devidramon? As I recall, there's a Devidramon in here now. He's hiding in the kitchen as we speak."

To the dragon's horror, several Numemons clad in gladiator armor burst into the kitchen and bound him in a gunny sack.

"We found him!" they all seemed to be crying at once, ad-libbing as well. Devidramon squirmed and attempted to break free, even attacking for the first time, but this sack seemed to have a force field around it.

"Digitamamon, what did you do?" demanded Vegiemon's voice.

"He's not blind, you idiot," replied the unhatched lizard. "He's not our problem anymore!"

"Lord Toxidramon thanks you!" exclaimed one of the Numemon.

Devidramon felt himself being carried away on the backs of several of these vile creatures, pieces of the armor poking and prodding at him. After what had felt like hours, the dragon felt the parade come to a halt. It was in the very clearing where the vampire had confronted the Digi-Destined, and the moon had even assumed the same blood-red shade, signifying a growing evil. The Numemon spilled him out of the sack, and he tumbled to the ground only to see Toxidramon glaring down at him, more intimidating than ever.

"Well well well, looks like the dragon is out of the bag," acknowledged Toxidramon. "Nice work, Numemon." He looked at Devidramon and licked his lips. "And as for you, I will make sure that you never cross me again. My rage has built up over the past three months, and I'm looking forward to seeing you as my slave for all eternity. Next time you won't be so fortunate. Be glad all you have now is a scar."

Devidramon growled. His rage was returning, overshadowing his fear of death.

Toxidramon waved his hand. "Get him, Numemon."

The armored sludge monsters all rushed out at him, but Devidramon knew what to do. With one glare from his ice-blue eyes, he petrified his opponents with fear merely long enough for him to escape Toxidramon's whip. The dragon cracked it several times, and Devidramon knew he needed to think on his feet.

"CRIMSON CLAW!" he shouted, deciding to clear his path by wiping away the Numemon. Unaware of his own strength, the Champion unleashed a wave of crimson lightning from his claws that hit each of the Numemon, amplified by their metal armor. Each one exploded in a burst of slime, screaming as he did so. Finally, every final servant had disintegrated.

Toxidramon was displeased. "I see your attacks can wipe out my servants…" he stated, advancing on Devidramon. "But I'm a different story! FLAME OF GRENDEL!"

The fire struck Devidramon on the side, rendering him helpless and unable to move, no matter how hard he tried.

WHACK! Toxidramon had whipped Devidramon.

WHACK! Blood spilled down his side.

WHACK! The dragon clenched his teeth, hoping he would not die.

"CRIMSON… CLAW!" he shouted, glaring at Toxidramon. Both attacks struck him, but the half-man, half-dragon showed no signs of pain.

Instead, Toxidramon merely grew angrier and more fierce. He grew even taller in height, and his humanoid features turned almost beastly. He even seemed to grow fangs that dripped with venom.

"You think you're so powerful," hissed the beastly Mega. "But I am the most powerful Virus Digimon who ever set foot on Server! No one dares challenge my power! NO ONE!"

Devidramon glared into Toxidramon's glowing red eyes with his ice-blue stare. Nothing.

"And now… my favorite part of the game. Sudden death!" Toxidramon cackled malicously and raised his hand. "TOXIC—WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT!"

Toxidramon had no time to think as a swarm of bats flew past his head, nipping at his flesh. They formed a cloud around Devidramon, which grew larger and darker as more bats joined in. Blood-red light streamed out from between their wings, and Devidramon began to laugh. It started out as the dragon's youthful chuckling, then suddenly it transitioned into a deep, resonant, mature laugh that sent a shudder down Toxidramon's back.

"No…" gasped the dragon, horrified. "You're… _digivolving!_"

Within the wall of bats, Devidramon glowed an intense blood-red color, so only his figure and ice-blue eyes showed. Suddenly, his body shrunk, and he stood upright at the same time. Next, his figure changed from that of a dragon to that of a human—very thin, nonetheless, but still a human, although he kept his wings. Out of nowhere, blue trousers and a blue tunic wrapped around him, and the tunic enhanced itself to conceal his slight frame. Two belts fitted themselves around his waist, boots and gloves slipped onto his hands and feet, and all of his clothing was enhanced with bat patterns. The wings changed into a vampire's cape that was black on the outside and crimson on the inside. He ceased his glowing, revealing a humanoid body with golden hair, pale blue skin, purple lips, and his trademark ice-blue eyes. His face would have been perfect if not for scar. Out of his mouth protruded two fangs. The only thing that was different was that he was not wearing his crimson mask.

While this was occurring, Toxidramon stood there in shock. He could not see anything, but he knew that he was in peril.

"Well, I can see your deductive reasoning has improved," retorted the creature in Devidramon's voice before the transformation. "And now… after all the years you have tormented me against my will and after you scarred me, I will finally get my revenge! _Devidramon, digivolve to… MYOTISMON!"_ As he said his new name, his voice became deeper and more mature again.

The bats flew away to reveal the vampire, posed in a defensive stance, prepared for battle.

Toxidramon was slightly amused. "Tell me, Devidramon, is your bite worse than your bark, or will you merely make me die of laughter with that ridiculous appearance?"

"It is not Devidramon," said the vampire. "It is _LORD MYOTISMON!_ GRISLY WING!"

The bats flew out from beneath his crimson mantle and ate away at Toxidramon. They refused to stop, regardless of how much the dragon swatted at them.

"FLAME OF GRENDEL!" Toxidramon's fire eventually destroyed the bats.

"HA! There's more where that came from!"

"There's more where this came from, too! TOXIC CRUSHER!" Toxidramon unleashed the most powerful Toxic Crusher he could produce, but Myotismon shielded himself with his cape. The attack dissolved the second it hit. "What the—"

Myotismon laughed. "Well, Toxidramon… it looks like you have some competition!"

"Yes, but you are still my servant, and to me you are no more than the Rookie DemiDevimon! I will eventually reconfigure you and rebuild you from the ground up as one of my servants!"

"Not unless I destroy you first!" shouted Myotismon. He gathered every last ounce of strength he possessed, and the scar on his face glowed bright crimson—the exact same color as his most potent attack. "CRIMSON LIGHTNING!"

Toxidramon's eyes grew wide as his former servant unleashed a whip of electrified blood from his wrists directly into his chest. He screamed, fire and smoke erupting from his mouth and his skeleton showing as the electricity surged through his entire body. Finally, he dropped to the ground, writhing in agony. "Damn you, Ultimate Myotismon…" he hissed before dissolving into pieces of data that were blown away.

"I'll miss you like I miss the light, Toxidramon," said the vampire.

The vampire was pleased and kept himself dignified and silent. He knew that it was his destiny to rule the real and digital worlds, and Toxidramon's castle would be the perfect place to begin his reign. He flew off towards the mountain that he had once loathed, prepared to change it and rule in it with an iron fist.

The scene rippled again, then changed to its tranquil surface.

* * *

To be continued… 


	5. The Return of Toxidramon

A/N: I can't believe we're already halfway through! Anyway… this ties to the previous chapter. And there have been some reviews that address certain character actions, but they will be justified in here. Also, there's another flashback.

I don't know if the mask is an extraneous part of Myo's evolution or not, but in this story it is. Oh, and the explanation of the "blood" portion of his Crimson Lightning might upset the faint of heart.

By the way, I changed the rating to be safe. Some elements of this story might upset younger readers and are not for the faint of heart.

* * *

Chapter 5

The Return of Toxidramon

Angemon had returned to Angewomon's side, knowing that he should not be wallowing in his own self-pity like the vampire on the other side. He entered the chamber alone at his request and laid his eyes upon the terrible sight. His female counterpart—so close she was like a sister to him—lay limp in her bed, seemingly lifeless, while the life form inside her began to enter its very first stages of growth. With her helmet removed, her face glowed a feverish red hue as perspiration meandered over her skin and through her hair. Her eyelids were shut and her mouth was open, letting agonizing moans escape through it with each breath.

"Angewomon… I'm here for you," said Angemon, kneeling at the bedside and enclosing Angewomon's slender, lifeless hand in his gentle yet strong grip. "Please… I don't want you to die… we've been through so much… speak to me, my dear, and let me hear your voice…"

The angel maiden's eyes opened, and her Champion-level counterpart let out a sigh of relief.

"Myo…" she said weakly, brushing her other hand against Angemon's face and feeling the cool metal of his helmet. "Where… is… Myo? Why… is he… not here?"

Angemon felt his stomach plunging through the floor, and he sqeezed her hand more tightly. Negative thoughts bombarded his mind, each more grave than the last. _Should she know about Myotismon in the Dark Ocean? She would be devastated to know… but if I told her that he was the one who created the virus, and that she is with child…_ He opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped. He despondently shook his head. _I wish I could… but something is holding me back._

"I wish I knew, my dear Angewomon…" he finally managed to speak as he cradled the maiden's hand in his. "But I can sense that he will return soon." With this assurance, Angewomon fell into a deep, heavy slumber, and Angemon quietly left the room. Although he was disinclined to do so, he knew he had to find Wizardmon.

Silently, Myotismon drew himself away from the tidepool, filled with anguish and self-pity. His face appeared even paler than before, and he felt himself shake. He placed his hand to his face and felt for the smooth, metallic reassurance that his mask was still present. Everything was; the firm ridges of the bat wings protruded from the edges.

"You look a little pale there, Myo-sama," said a familiar voice from near his feet. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested.

Glancing downward, Myotismon saw that DarkTokomon had advanced past its In-Training stage to the Rookie DemiDevimon. It seemed as if the vampire were gazing through a mirror and saw himself when he was four years of age, and doomed to work under the servitude of Toxidramon for twenty-one long years… it had everything, from the same ebony wings to the ice-blue eyes that could freeze the blood running through his enemy's veins and could also petrify him with fear. It was frightening to see such a resemblance, but the vampire refused to say anything about it. The greatest wonder of all was how he could have digivolved all this way from Poyomon in such a ridiculously short amount of time. It had taken the vampire twenty-five agonizing years to reach his Ultimate stage; Poyomon's transformation took barely more than a day.

"Tell me," asked the vampire, "how long have you resided here?"

"Six months," replied DemiDevimon. "I've learned almost everything there is to know about this place from the prophecies in the lighthouse."

"Wait… I thought you said you had never been inside it before."

"No, I said that it was probably reserved for you, because none of it really fit my taste. There was all that literature I couldn't understand… the prophecies I could, though, so I looked through those… and then there's the candles on the wall and the drink cabinet I couldn't ever open. I don't know what you thought about those paintings on the walls, though…"

"I prefer the tapestries in my castle… I mean, also in Heaven everything's lovely as it is." _How could I have said that? It's like I prefer my musty old castle to the endless sanctuary of my true kind. Unless…_ Myotismon felt the pain surging through the scar on his chest, and his head began to spin.

"Come," said DemiDevimon, motioning to a nearby rock that stuck out of the sand and was the perfect height for sitting on. "Sit down." Now that he was DemiDevimon, kindness on his part was regarded as suspicious behavior. However, as Myotismon ventured towards the rock, his intuition reassured him that this would not be any sort of deception.

"What always helps me," suggested DemiDevimon as the vampire—still shaking—sat nervously on the rock, "is staring at the waves. They just… hypnotize me and make me forget my troubles in an instant. You see, the Dark Ocean isn't made of water, despite what legends say. It might seem like water, but it's extremely concentrated dark thoughts and feelings of every being who ever existed… at least those born with original sin. Animals don't think dark thoughts; their lives are based on instinct. Humans and Digimon have knowledge of good and evil, and that knowledge leads to darkness in some areas. Every time a human feels depressed, or angry, jealous, abandoned, or anything negative, the darkness from their hearts feeds their own personal Dark Ocean, and then when that human overcomes their feelings, they're emptied into this one. That's why it's so cold and compressing all the time. I learned that from one of the books in the lighthouse."

Myotismon looked at the waves, and instead of rolling in like the tides, they crashed onto the sand with a mighty force, still with a steady and hypnotic beat. All he could see was the silver meeting the grey and boring away at it, creating a new formation in the coastline, only to rip that away as well… he could sit there for hours… he could feel his heartbeat, and it was one with the ocean… everything was unnaturally tranquil.

"YOU!" bellowed a familiar raspy voice so close to the vampire he returned to reality. His scar began to hurt like hell, amplified by the presence of evil. Myotismon whipped himself around and gasped to see a horrific sight.

"Toxidramon!" he exclaimed, leaping off the rock and entering a defensive stance. "What are you doing here?"

"This…" snarled the half-man, half-dragon Mega through clenched teeth, "… is my home. And now you come to intrude on my territory and steal it from me like you have done with Server. Nightmare Castle, BAH! Well, I won't let you get away with this! I'll see you in DigiHell, bastard! FLAME OF GRENDEL!"

Myotismon could not have leapt out of the way in time. The fireball that was unleashed from Toxidramon's mouth billowed out in a blaze of poisonous flame. It hit him directly on his right breast, searing his pale blue skin and ripping it apart. He felt the venom infusing itself into his veins, and the pain was too overwhelming for him. He clenched his teeth and ground them together as he fell helplessly to the sand.

"Demi…Devimon…" he managed to cough out, "…help me, please!"

But DemiDevimon was nowhere to be seen.

"I sent your little friend flying away out of fear. Some friend he is," scoffed the hybrid. He gave the vampire a smug glance and added, "Not so powerful now without your cape to shield you, I see. Why, look at that awful scar on your chest! I'd hate to see it after I'm through with it! TOXIC CRUSHER!"

The beam of green light bore directly into the scar, increasing the already agonizing pain tenfold. It was so intense the vampire bit his tongue and clenched the sand in his fists, not wanting anything but to die. Perspiration dripped down his face, mingling with the salty tears squeezed out of his eyes. He could not see in front of him except the flashing lightning bolts and sparks only he saw. Agony bubbled into his mind, clouding everything else out, especially Angewomon… the evil in the scar wanted him to forget about her. Every single memory from his past flashed before his eyes in the most horrific montage known to him. Every human, henchman, and world he hurt confronted him, and he wanted to collapse.

"ENOUGH!" the vampire shouted for the first time in his life. He was ready to surrender to Toxidramon as long as he stayed away from the scar…

Toxidramon bared his yellowed fangs in a smile. "Enough, you say? I've been waiting here for 775 years in this limbo, my hatred for you growing with each passing day. You never stopped when I had enough, and now the tables have turned. _I'LL_ say when you've had enough! I WILL RIP YOU FROM TOP TO BOTTOM! TOXIC CRUSHER!"

Relying on his reflexes brought on by years of training, Myotismon finally darted out of the way, and the concentrated toxins hit the rock and exploded it. Toxidramon grew even more enraged.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" The vampire unleashed a whip of his own electrified blood at the dragon, hitting him in the chest and causing him to fly backwards with his front legs in the air like a horse on the battlefield, screaming in agony. Suddenly, Myotismon realized that he no longer held the upper hand; his Elysian Sword had not been taken to the Dark Ocean with him. Toxidramon skidded on the sand, then came to a halt, staring into the vampire's ice-blue eyes with his piercing venom gaze. Suddenly, Myotismon had done something that he had not dared after he became a being of light. His stare filled Toxidramon's veins with stinging ice, and the same scene from his childhood replayed itself.

He knew he had to flee and find DemiDevimon, but Toxidramon had recovered from the blow. "FLAME OF GRENDEL!"

The vampire felt the flame penetrating his cape into his back, knocking him into the sand. He sputtered as it filled his mouth and he tasted its bitterness. Turning over, he saw Toxidramon looming over him, Toxic Crusher in his hand like a whip. He held up his hand in defense.

"Well well well, this scene looks familiar," remarked the dragon. "Where could we have seen this before? That's right, it was when you were Devidramon, and I was about to give you your taste of death. Looks like you're defenseless now. Look at you, all skinny and fragile, covered with so many scars and no armored clothing. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were an angel."

_Celestial Mode._

"Last time I checked, you were wearing that blue military suit… and no mask. What could you be hiding under that thing, anyway?" He withdrew the Toxic Crusher and leaned downward, restraining the vampire with his spiked tail. As he writhed out of agony, Toxidramon chuckled and removed the white mask that covered Myotismon's face, throwing it aside. There was the crimson scar, slashing across his eyes like a bolt of Crimson Lightning, standing out starkly against his pale blue complexion and sapphire eyes. Myotismon surrendered; he was fully exposed now, and there was nothing he could do. He helplessly lay on the bed of sand, all hope drained from him. Toxidramon chuckled. "I knew you wore a mask, Myotismon, but it was only to conceal _this?_ The scar I gave you when you disobeyed my orders? Pathetic."

The vampire lay still, not saying a word, as Toxidramon removed his tail from the vampire's body.

"I wonder if you'll take a liking to this, then! TOXIC CRUSHER!"

Not slowly enough to produce an actual scar, the dragon whipped his attack directly into Myotismon, starting at below his neck and going straight down his torso, hoping to mangle the vampire's manhood. Fortunately for Myotismon, the two silver belts around his waist and his white trousers unexpectedly reflected the Toxic Crusher back at its owner, forcing him backwards once again and causing him to writhe in agony.

Myotismon tried to stand up, but everything between his neck and his navel hurt like none other. Once again, the cross-shaped scar on his chest overpowered all, and everything he had repressed over the years came flooding back. He wished he could never be immortal again.

"That does it, you TRAITOR!" he could hear Toxidramon shouting. "It's time you returned to your life as a _servant_, the way it should be!" He threw an orb at Myotismon, who fell into a deep, painless sleep.

* * *

The scar still infused anguish into his mind, even in this dormant state. Everything continued from where the tidepool left off, only it had jumped forward several years. Toxidramon's palace had been transformed into Nightmare Castle, and as a result, Digimon strived to avoid it because it had become even more frightening. Legends were told of a vampire who stole into villages on Server and File Island in the dead of night and whisked the innocent into his castle and tormented them until they became completely loyal. This was true, with the exception of the Bakemon, who chose to serve him because he promised them an entire castle on a mountaintop instead of a church on a hilltop. Myotismon had become legendary and was slowly gaining control of the desirable portion of the main digital continent; however, he was becoming more discontent than ever because several of his servants were inquisitive about the blemish on his face.

"Master Myotismon," wondered the Bakemon whom the vampire had selected to be his right-hand servant, "what is that red line across your face? All of us Bakemon have been wondering it for quite some time, and you have never told us anything."

Although the Bakemon were servile to this authoritative master, the vampire knew that they would only serve a _true_ leader. If he told them the origin of that scar, they would know that he, the one whom they called "Master," had once been a servant like themselves. They would never be a servant to a servant; no, that was beneath them. Myotismon would never let them know. He could not.

"It's a birthmark," he fibbed a little too quickly. "I've always had it."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of!" exclaimed the right-hand Bakemon. "I have something to be ashamed of." He motioned to the black slash that crossed over his left eye. "I got this scar when I fought a Rookie and lost."

_At least you fought for it,_ thought the vampire, touching the blemish on his otherwise perfect face. _And you fought an equal, and not your master…_

"Could… could I be alone, Bakemon?" wondered Myotismon, motioning to the door of the study. Obediently, the ghost flew out without another word, and the doors slammed shut.

The vampire hurried over to a mirror that was covered in dust and wiped the surface clean. Through the dirt and grime he saw nothing except the dark interior of the study. Running his hand over his mouth, he felt the pinpricks of his fangs and remembered that he was a vampire; therefore he was unable to cast a reflection. He banged the mirror with his fists and laid his head on the desk beneath it, crying "Why, damn you? Why must I take on this horrific form?" He banged the desk once more and realized that this would take him nowhere, so he despondently slunk out of his study and up to his crypt. Along the way, he passed packs of Bakemon who bragged about the scars they had earned in battle against stronger Digimon, holding himself as upright as he could and attempting not to show how impure he was compared to these true fighters. His right-hand mon was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, he reached his crypt at the top of the largest tower in the castle. His velvet-lined casket remained open, while the crimson carpet embroidered in gold lay beneath it, spreading around the entire floor. Horrific tapestries depicting death and suffering covered the stained-glass windows that encircled the entire room by day, but it was during a severe thunderstorm in the dead of night, and rain pounded mercilessly against the windowpanes. Between every other window was a torch that constantly burned. A tarnished chandelier adorned with dust and cobwebs hung from the ceiling and had never been used. One of the windows led to a ledge that overlooked the entire north side of Server, with a stone angel standing sentinel.

Rain pounded even harder against the glass. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the wind howled. It was the ideal setting for a horror movie. Quickly, Myotismon shut the heavy wooden door to the crypt and locked it. He would not let anyone see him… not in this condition. Silently, he remembered the viewing orbs that he could produced and wondered if they would allow him to see himself. He let a crystal bubble roll out of his hand and hover in the air, growing until he could see his face.

There he saw it; the crimson scar stood out starkly against his skin and drew attention away from everything. It pained him to even see himself that way, and he knew that _he needed to hide from himself_. He tried to glance into his eyes, but they were drawn back to the abomination on his face. It was impossible to ignore, and even worse, the vampire had heard that it glowed whenever he attacked. _Glowed,_ for Goddramon's sakes! That made everything even worse. He was a slave, a slave even lower than the Bakemon. Eventually they would discover Myotismon's terrible secret, and then every final servant in his castle would never respect him… unless he knew how to hide it.

The viewing orb disappeared, but Myotismon still knew what lay on his face, right across his eyes. This was more than a mere blemish; this was the very symbol of his past. If only he had chosen to conceal it when he digivolved… if only he had a helmet like those angel Digimon… _but he had to be this damned vampire!_

Enraged at himself, Myotismon cried out and ripped his blue tunic apart, exposing his chest. Then, with his fangs, he tore slits down each sleeve until his wrists were exposed. He rushed over to the nearest window.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" With one whip, he blasted a jagged hole in the glass, and the wind caused some of the pieces to blow in.

Unyieldingly, the vampire picked up a blood-red shard, the sharpest he could find. He attempted to slash his wrists open, but all it created was a mere scratch. Remembering he had fangs, he placed his wrist against his dagger-sharp canines, dug them deep inward, and dragged his arm across until a deep slit was created. Relishing the feel of his own blood escaping his wounds and tasting the salty liquid in his mouth, he sank his fangs into his other wrist and did the same. Rainwater mixed with the blood as he held them upwards and let his life trickle down his arms… and now to plunge a piece of glass into his chest and end this horrible chapter in his life—

Bakemon flew into the room, phasing through the door. "Master Myotismon, what are you doing?" asked his right-hand minion.

The vampire glanced at the ghost, half enraged for allowing him to live another day, the other half grateful for the same.

The lead Bakemon glanced at his master's wrists and said nothing. "Allow me to bandage them, sir, so you'll live."

"I have no will to live anymore," replied Myotismon, still staring at his life escaping him.

"But master, we made you a mask so no one would have to ask you about your… birthmark anymore." He presented the vampire with a crimson mask that had bat wings for tips. "We figured that since you are a vampire, after all, you need something bat-related… but first, let's stop the blood." He tore two ragged piece off of his sheet and tied them around his master's wrists. They immediately turned from white to crimson. Then, with honor, he placed the mask on Myotismon's face, and suddenly the vampire felt a sense of contentment. The only thing that could have been better was if he had never been scarred at all…

Everyone who worked for the vampire from then on knew he wore a mask, but they thought that it was a viable part of his evolution and thought nothing of it. As for the slits on his wrists, they had never healed. They did not become scars, but instead became outlets to amplify the amount of his Crimson Lightning—Myotismon's own blood charged with the power of lightning. He wore cuffs over them to harness the lightning into a whip, which added to the irony. The scars he had initially received because of servanthood had become what he used against his own servants.

* * *

Angemon found Wizardmon in their study, paging through a book of potent digital viruses and their antidotes.

"Angemon," addressed the young wizard without looking up. He could sense the angel's presence in the room.

"Wizardmon, have you found a cure for Angewomon yet?"

"I wish I have, Angemon, but this takes time." The wizard sighed, feeling weary in his mind. "There are very powerful potions that can counter the virus in her system, but I'm afraid it will…"

"What?"

"Well… wouldn't it harm her baby? We do want both of them to live, don't we?"

"But… Wizardmon, we don't know what this child will be like! For all you know, he could be a Virus like Myotismon…"

"No, Angemon. I know that there are great things in store for his son, and prophecy says that he will be one of the keys to restoring balance in the universe. We must help him and Angewomon live…" His eyes lit up, remembering something. "Wait… I realized that all this is in vain!"

"What do you mean?"

"Since Myotismon created this virus himself, he would obviously know the antidote. I don't know what he put in it, but he knows which ingredients balance each other! If he knew… if he wrote it down and left it in his castle, then we could find it!"

* * *

The vampire awoke in a dungeon cell that very night, his head still swimming from the terrible poison running through his veins, his front side aching from the Toxic Crusher, and his scar burning like none other. He remembered the slits in his wrists, and felt not only flawed, but filthy. There he was, stuck in Toxidramon's castle in the Dark Ocean… once the angel that had saved two worlds. Where was AngeMyotismon, and how come he chose not to live like that? He could have selected the path of Angemon, after all…

Regardless, Azulongmon appointed _him_ to the title of Dark Archangel of the Digital World. He was the one who mode changed Myotismon to Celestial Mode and gave him this ridiculous costume that could only protect him where the white covered his skin… why did it only cover his limbs, neck, shoulders, and lower torso? Why not where it truly mattered, where most of the shots were aimed?

_To prove that he was more powerful, that was why._

Azulongmon created the angels' costumes, and their attire was so scanty because of the power that they possessed, not because they were vain and wanted to show off their bodies. They were not in need of fancy armor or a special force field to prove they could fight until the end. They had nothing to hide; no other means of strength except themselves. Myotismon was powerful as it was, and his cape and uniform merely provided an extra s" hield. The Celestial Mode cape possessed no means of protection, so it was up to the vampire to _fight_, to hone his potency and use it to its fullest extent.

If only he knew.

_Azulongmon… why have you forsaken me? Is it because I am becoming evil again?_

_ I have nothing to my name. My mask, my last shred of dignity, was ripped off by Toxidramon. My body is covered with battle scars, and the one on my chest hurts so much I want to die._

_ Why did you ever make me immortal? I want to die right now, in a pit of my own worthlessness._

_ Why could I not have been Angemon instead? Or AngeMyotismon, or Ange- anything! I no longer even deserve the title of "Celestial Mode." I am nothing but the vampire Myotismon, reduced to this. Why?_

Suddenly, he remembered.

_"It doesn't matter whether or not you are an angel,"_ Angewomon's voice echoed in his mind. He knew it was from that very night they moved to their heavenly citadel. "_To the world you may either be an angel or a vampire, but to me, you'll always be my dark archangel."_

Angewomon.

Somehow, he had forgotten completely about her; just shut her out of his mind!

His will to live rested in her, and only he held the cure to her virus.

And his unborn son… how could he have forgotten about him?

Angemon… Wizardmon… the Digi-Destined… Wizardmon's new human partner Rena Yuriko… Earth… Digiworld… how could he have forgotten about them?

Although he knew he was slowly becoming evil again, he knew he had to escape the clutches of this digital Hell before it was too late. Not for himself, but for the worlds to which he belonged.

* * *

To be continued… 


	6. The Prisoner

A/N: Just to let you know, I am aware that I do tend to miss several page breaks. I double-space them on the computer and then insert a horizontal rule where I remember they left off, but sometimes I miss one or two. If you catch one, let me know.

Short but Myo-centric chapter ahead! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6

The Prisoner

One hundred years before the Digi-Destined had entered Myotismon's afterlife, the vampire had reached the pinnacle of his leadership; he might as well have been Overlord of the Digital World. All Devimon managed to seize was the insignificant File Island, and Etemon? He could _have_ all of eastern Server; it was nothing but a worthless coastline and desert with barely any inhabitants, anyway. In addition, Myotismon knew that it was a tactical strategy to have at least two worthy obstacles to halt these chosen children in their tracks—or at the very least, delay them.

The vampire was in his study, perusing through ancient digital manuscripts and records. History had always enthralled him; it stemmed from the stories that he had been told by Digitamamon and Vegiemon while recovering from the wound that Toxidramon had given him. At first, he had been fascinated by the tales of warfare and bloodshed that the Digimon of old had written hundreds of years before. Then he realized that these etchings on leather-bound parchment could be a powerful weapon in his hands. With his knowledge of the digital lords and the fatal flaws that led to their ends, he would grow to learn the vulnerabilities of not only the digital world and its inhabitants, but what actions he should or should not commit while in power. He was so enthralled in his passion for power that he sometimes stayed awake for up to a week, reading and rereading the ancient records for a key to domination.

He had just begun to rise to power when a prophecy spoke to him:

_The Light will fade,_

_And the Eternal Night of the Undead King shall prevail_

_Through a Tempest of Bloodshed_

_And a Harvest of Souls._

_All other Demons shall bow to the Virus Lord,_

_The most powerful Evil to befall the Digital World._

_Seven hundred years of Terror Server will endure_

_At the hands of the Undead King._

_When seven centuries have passed,_

_Seven Chosen Children_

_Bearing the Powers of their Crests_

_Shall enter the Digital World_

_And the Eternal Night of the Undead King_

_Will fade from the Face of the Digital World_

_Forever._

The Undead King. That was him.

A tempest of bloodshed and a harvest of souls. His minions used brutal—and always bloody—warfare against larger digital cities and tribes, while in the most defenseless of villages, Myotismon himself kidnapped the most defenseless and molded their souls to be like his own. He was legendary throughout all of his continent, and no Digimon was brave enough to venture into the darkness.

But the Chosen Children?

_Never!_

Myotismon was well over one hundred years of age at the time he had read it; he hardly appeared twenty-five, as that was his year of life in which he digivolved. He knew that his immortality and eternal youth was apparent in the prophecy—seven hundred years of power. He was discontent with this, for _seven hundred years was but a heartbeat in eternity!_ If the vampire was to live forever, he should be able to rule for that long.

That was when he realized that he was becoming too powerful to stop ruling after seven hundred years. He could forge his own fate—intense training and battles against his most powerful henchmen. If he could defeat a Digimon of the same caliber as Tuskmon, DarkTyrannomon, Dokugumon, or Phantomon, he could defeat a mere child. He trained for hours—he would mostly practice alone, but some days he would fight against his strongest minions and win every time. He singlehandedly fought entire cities and would emerge unscathed and victorious. The vampire grew extremely thin on no sustenance outside of blood and wine, but he maintained his strength through his own rigorous training. In addition, he still had the time to increase his knowledge through reading the classics. There was no piece of literature written that he had not read, and once in a while he would pick up something different, such as a chess manual or Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_. As a vampire, he would often leave the castle at night to prey on the blood of the innocent… and sometimes the virginity of humanoid female Digimon if his appetite had grown unquenchable.

Without a doubt, Myotismon had become the most feared creature in the digital world, and other Virus types had learned of his limitless vault of skill, power, and knowledge. The female types had become drawn to him through his spellbinding beauty, but alas, were left in the dust and trampled like so many other victims after their bodies were subject to his disposal. However, there were four in particular who envied him more than any other precedent for takeover.

Six hundred years into his reign, Myotismon sat in a comfortable leather chair in the study, rereading the dark poetry of Edgar Allan Poe, one of his favorite authors. The flames flickered off of the vampire, giving him a soft, angelic glow amid his sharp facial features and demonic eyes.

There was a rapping on the door, and Myotismon gently closed the book and set it on a magohany table beside him, next to an untouched glass of ruby wine. He was not presently in the mood for visitors, but he would not ignore a message if it was urgent or if there was a potential threat to his power.

"Come in," he said, his deep voice echoing through the room.

The tall, ebony doors opened with a creak, and the unmistakable raspy voice of DemiDevimon could be heard.

"Master Myotismon… you have a visitor."

"Send him in."

"But… boss, he's not from this castle!"

"WHAT!" Myotismon quickly rose into the air and turned around, his eyes blazing with ice-blue fire. "How dare he trespass on the castle grounds! Send the Devidramon on him and do not spare the remains!"

The imp trembled even more. "M… master, he… he claims he's… he… he wants to help you, sir!"

The vampire knew that this visitor could still not be trusted. "Why would I need help from any other mon? Tell him to leave or suffer."

"But master…"

"Let me do the talking, you waste of space," interrupted a deeper, more mature voice from behind the doors. They opened wider to make way for a humanoid demon Digimon. Neither his face nor figure could be seen; they were concealed behind a crimson robe. All that could be seen were his glowing eyes from underneath his hood, and two twisted brown horns that protruded from the sides of his head. On a chain around his neck was a pendant that resembled a human eye, and inside the eye was a grey mist. "I see you do not recognize me, Lord Myotismon, but I have learned a great deal about you," said the being in a more respectful tone of voice.

"Tell me who you are and why I should be obligated to spare your life," threatened the vampire, still defensive.

The demon chuckled. "I can see that you are not one to mess with," he said amusedly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Daemon, and I have come from the Dark Ocean to ask a favor of you."

A whip of Crimson Lightning extended from the vampire's hand. "Go on," he said.

"Lord Myotismon, my Demon Corps have been confined to the smallest, most overcrowded piece of territory within the dimension that the Dark Ocean is located, and not one Digimon recognizes me as their leader… nor MarineDevimon as the unquestioned ruler of the seas. If we were to rule the true digital world as well as the Hell for Digimon, we'd be respected more. We have heard of your incredible conquest of the northern digital world, and also the impending threat that lurks behind the interdimensional fabric on Earth, and we were willing to make a bargain with you."

The lightning disappeared. "Tell me."

Daemon reached into his robes and pulled out a pendant on a fine thread. Inside the tag was the inactive Crest of Light. "Years ago, the sage Gennai had confined eight Digieggs and their respectful crests inside—"

"Spare me the history lesson, Daemon; I have already learned of the dispersement of the tags and crests."

"Yes, well, what you haven't learned was that Piedmon was in my servitude, and he had only hidden seven before Gennai's army found and destroyed him. The eighth crest was still in my possession, and it is the key to the downfall of the Digi-Destined, as these chosen children are called. The crest within this tag—the Crest of Light—is the most powerful of all and will determine victory or demise.

"If you allow me to, sir, I wish to acquire even more land for you… but I must be able to rule over part of the digital world with you. In addition to the new territory, I will give you this crest… as well as a night with my servant LadyDevimon."

An attractive womon stepped through the doors. Her face resembled Devimon's, but her suit was more revealing and she had long, white hair that trailed down her back.

This was an offer the vampire could not refuse. He agreed to Daemon's offer, and as the demon flew off into the night, Myotismon escorted LadyDevimon to his crypt. Everything Myotismon had done was like a ritual, only this time it was not only for himself. The demoness seemed to be as passionate about that night as the vampire, and the two of them made love to each other far into the night in the seclusion of the chamber. What became a sensual massage while whispering sweet nothings turned into a wild and passionate whirl of sex, then they would briefly rest in the casket only to make love again several minutes later a different way.

It had been pleasure multiplied tenfold for the vampire and the demoness. He had relished hearing her scream like so many of his victims. She had never had a mon like him make love to her before, and hoped desperately that they could make love like this again. As dawn began to break, they lay side by side in the casket, breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. LadyDevimon's head rested on Myotismon's chest, and she moaned, remembering the night before.

A short time later, outside the doors of the crypt, DemiDevimon stood guard, holding up a picket sign that read, "Do not disturb!" in red letters. However, he was dozing, letting off a snore every time he exhaled. Daemon approached quickly.

"DemiDevimon," he said, causing the imp to leap high into the air, then stand alert with his sign.

"Can't you read the sign? It says, 'Do not disturb!' As in, 'Do not disturb me when I'm sleeping!'"

"I can read the damn sign," snapped Daemon. "Listen to me, DemiDevimon. Is the mating ritual complete, because I would like to tell him that he now possesses the west coast of Lan, as well as the archipelago near it."

"I don't know, and I don't want to know."

"If that's the way you're going to be, then fine."

The doors to the crypt opened, and Myotismon and LadyDevimon stepped out, fully clothed. The demoness's arms were wrapped around the vampire, and her head rested against his shoulder.

"What news have you brought me, Daemon?" questioned Myotismon.

Daemon explained everything, then gave him the tag and crest. The vampire took it away and enclosed it into his hands, then shoved LadyDevimon into her fellow demon.

"Take her; I don't want her anymore."

Tears brimmed in LadyDevimon's eyes.

"And… what about the land you promised me?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

"I promise nothing. When you work for me, you must remember that you no longer play by your own rules. I am the one for whom you work; therefore, I and I alone am the unquestioned overlord of the digital world. Servant."

"I'm not a servant to you! I helped you in exchange for land, and you took everything out of my hands. That is not fair, and I demand my crest back!"

"I don't play fair," said the vampire. "Now leave for your precious Dark Ocean and never return." His bats bared their sharp teeth, and he narrowed his eyes as if about to freeze them within. They had heard that the vampire had the power to reconfigure a Mega with a single stare from his eyes and one lash from his Crimson Lightning, and Daemon was much weaker than his appearance suggested, so they dared not fight back.

Eventually, Daemon consented. "You have just made a powerful enemy," he declared as he and a heartbroken LadyDevimon stepped through the portal in the castle from which they entered. "Someday, I shall return for revenge!"

* * *

But the revenge was a dish that was never served, for the Demon Corps, in an attempt to enter the castle, were rerouted to Earth, where they decided it would be best to take over. They were unaware of the Dark Archangel above them, and the Digi-Destined were the ones who sent them back to the Dark Ocean. Only their new recruit, InfernoDevimon, had dared to part from the group. Now, as the Archangel lay in his prison cell in Toxidramon's castle, he had a premonition that the tables had turned, and the demons would return to seek their revenge on him.

Toxidramon's unmistakable figure appeared on the other side of the bars in the midst of that familiar green haze that always surrounded him. "Get up, you miserable pile of digital scum!" he commanded, withdrawing a whip, then slipping it deftly between the bars so it struck Myotismon right across his side. He could feel himself bleeding already, and as he touched the wound, red stains appeared on his white gloves.

"CRIMSON—" he began, but only a spark was released from his wrist.

"Did I tell you that you can't attack in this castle?" Toxidramon questioned smugly. "All of my servants are injected with this every night." He held up a syringe no different from DemiDevimon's Demi Dart, but instead of a tar-like, grey liquid, it was filled with a neon-green potion. "This special virus drains the victim of its ability to digivolve or even attack. All they have to their names are their lives and their spirits, and soon yours will be crushed back to the way it was when you were DemiDevimon!"

"You never crushed my spirit," retorted Myotismon. "Why do you think I rebelled against you? Why do you think I received this scar?"

The dragon grimaced, as if he had tasted defeat. "I can see you are as stubborn as you ever were. From the day my Numemon brought you to me, I knew you were different from the others. You had your strong independent streak, and I could see it in your eyes. Every time you looked at me with those eyes, I sensed a threat."

Toxidramon's words seemed familiar…

He remembered.

_I said the same thing to Gatomon._

"No matter how much I beat you or punished you, I knew your spirit hadn't shattered at all—if anything, it grew. And then when I thought I had you in my servitude forever, you escaped and sent me here, to this wretched place… where I suffered seeing you accomplish more in thirty days than I had done in my entire life… within the very walls of my palace!

"You may believe that you have succeeded, but I know at last that I have finally crushed your spirit." He paused, relishing the suspense. "Through this." He whipped the mask off of Myotismon's face, exposing the scar. "You've tried to hide me from yourself through this instead of facing the truth that you were, in fact, once a servant. You couldn't bear to tell your henchmen, lest they leave you. You've spent 775 years wrapped in a lie."

"You're WRONG!" shouted Myotismon, placing the mask on his face when it was whipped off again. "It was a gift from my henchmen!"

"Really…" murmured Toxidramon. "But not until they saw you ripping your flesh apart at the wrists. It was your vanity that nearly killed you…"

"You cannot kill the undead," retorted the vampire. "I became immortal when I digivolved."

"Ah, but you would have rather died than spent eternity with disrespectful servants."

"LIAR!" Myotismon shouted again, rushing at the bars but thrown backwards as Toxidramon unleashed his Toxic Crusher. He felt as if every bone in his body was shattered as he fell to the concrete floor below. "You… you lie! How dare you contradict Lord Myotismon?"

He gasped. He had never uttered that last phrase since he was still a vampire. His scar began to burn again, the pain from the heat and the whipping mingling to create one that was even worse than before.

"And you call yourself an angel!" scoffed Toxidramon, turning his back on Myotismon and slowly slinking back into the haze.

Sadly, Toxidramon had been justified in saying that, and Myotismon knew it. The vampire began to wonder if he truly was meant to wear the pure white cape and defend the earth, or if he was worthy of the titles of "Lord" and "Master."

_ Nothing._

_ That is what I am—nothing._

_ I am unworthy of any title bestowed upon me… even Celestial Mode. Why, Azulongmon? Seraphimon? You have deceived yourselves and forsaken me… you wrenched my power from my hands as my Evil began to grow in the digital world once again, and then I am once again deprived… only this time, I am deprived of the goodness for which I was supposed to fight._

_ Do I mean anything?_

_ Why are you punishing me so?_

_ Why did you give me this title and these robes if you knew I was still evil?_

_ Why did you let Angemon send me to the Dark Ocean?_

_ I am no angel, no Celestial Mode, no Dark Archangel of the Digital World._

_ And yet, I am not evil, either… or at least it seems that way. If I am evil, I am neither "Lord" nor "Master."_

_ I doubt I even deserve my own name._

_ I know I am a grown mon… I know I should not cry… yet I know not what I am anymore._

_The only thing I know I am is immortal… and I desperately want to die. I have nothing to live for, not even Angewomon or my child. I would never want my child to grow up in a world infected by my Evil… if they were to ever live._

_ Angewomon… if you do live… do it for my son. I will fight here with what little righteousness I have left in my soul._

_

* * *

_

In Heaven, Angewomon felt Myotismon through her feverish dream. She felt as if he were there, holding her hand as they fought the illness together… and so were Angemon, and Wizardmon, and TK and Kari and Rena and all the Digi-Destined… and all the Guardians and angels on the Grand Council, and yet… there was someone else fighting with her, knowing her tribulation. She felt it closely, as if this new force was… inside her.

* * *

The two, though far apart and in separate dimensions, could not have felt closer to each other than at that very moment. They fought for each other, sensing the other's internal strength. Myotismon now _knew_ that he was not alone, that Angewomon was with him in spirit, likewise Angemon and Wizardmon and his son. He could feel his son's presence now; actually _see_ him as a grown Digimon, shining with the light of a million stars.

He was an angel, with six feathery wings sprouting from his back, covered in a sheet of golden hair. He wore a silver knight's helmet atop his head, and on its crest were feathers as blue as his eyes. Underneath each of his eyes were two blue lines—markings of a warrior. He wore a white bodysuit and scanty silver armor, signifying his strength, which nearly matched his alabaster skin. Myotismon knew his son was an angel.

An angel like his mother… and his father. He could see himself in his child— his ice-blue eyes and shimmery gold locks, his pale skin and pointed incisors, even the lithe, muscular figure he possessed. There were no glints of evil in his eyes— only goodness in his heart. Myotismon knew that he must escape and give every ounce of strength to Angewomon and his firstborn son, who would be named Aeronumon.

The vision of light disappeared as Evil once again entered the dungeons. Toxidramon stepped in the hallway, followed by two familiar figures. The vampire's heart sank, and his stomach began to plummet. Nothing was what it seemed anymore.

"Well, he seems to be as we left him," remarked the unmistakable voice of Daemon, echoing through the halls. "A little scrawnier, and dressed in all white, but he's just the way we remember him."

"Yes," replied Toxidramon. "Only this time, he's rendered powerless and can be manipulated at your disposal. I have his attacks under control thanks to the virus I created, and I kept him prisoner by Lord DemiDevimon's orders."

_No…_ thought Myotismon. _It couldn't be…_

"Although he insisted that I rough his lighter side up a little more, he told me that the…" --Toxidramon snorted-- "…_Celestial Mode's _reaction to the vision in the tidepool was more than enough, and sometimes too much of a good thing can turn out bad for us. It seemed that his spirit had been broken enough, and the effects of InfernoDevimon's scar are becoming more and more drastic each day."

_What effects of the scar? Could this be why I seem to be transitioning back into Evil?_

"Lord DemiDevimon says it is up to you now to create the gateway. I wish you luck with that, Daemon, my friend, as well as with recapturing the Fallen One. I believe he is working directly for our Lord now, but your farce was exactly what we needed to bring him back to the side of Evil. Those who were once angels still possess some threads of goodness, likewise Myotismon Celestial Mode still has seeds of darkness planted in his soul." His voice dropped to a murmur as he spoke to LadyDevimon. "And you, my dear… be sure you impair his judgement through pleasure. Do exactly what you did last time, but Lord DemiDevimon requests that you try to remove his mask and convince him to join you. After all, the Celestial Mode's dark power is what gives Lord DemiDevimon his strength. If I am not mistaken, he has once again digivolved to Devidramon… and we need Devidramon to digivolve to Ultimate and fulfill his plan."

"I am willing to do whatever it takes, Toxidramon," whispered LadyDevimon. "He broke my heart once… and I will make sure he never does it again. Lord Demi— pardon me, Lord Devidramon himself told me about what really pleases him."

"Go," dictated Toxidramon, motioning towards the door. "Go quickly to MarineDevimon's palace, LadyDevimon, and wait for us in the Chamber."

The demoness faded into the shadows as Daemon and Toxidramon drew closer to a frightened Myotismon. Not once in his life had he felt this way; all Digimon were afraid of him. All he knew was that Toxidramon and the Demon Corps were together in a plan… one that involved a fallen angel and his own Shadow Mode, it seemed.

"Myotismon," said Toxidramon to the vampire, who had turned pale and felt his heart beating in his throat. "May I have the pleasure of introducing you to… let's just say he's an old friend of yours."

Daemon stepped into what little light shone in the dungeons, eyes shining brightly underneath his hood. He exhaled through his nostrils as if scornful or about to fight, but he said nothing and remained still. It was frightening in its own way, and the vampire saw himself reflected in the demon. When he still ruled Server, the way he remained silent and still intimidated his henchmen and even his enemies. And now… he was the enemy and Daemon was him.

"What do you want with me, D-Daemon?" demanded Myotismon, attempting not to sound frightened. "Have you not… learned your lesson last time we saw each other?"

"Why would I be intimidated by you?" asked the demon. "You're locked up… almost as if you were one of Toxidramon's servants." He chuckled to himself and seemed to glance at the half-man-half-dragon. "But… we have made a bargain with him to set you free… free from his clutches. You must, once again, make love to LadyDevimon, who has been mourning your loss for the hundreds of years we have spent trapped in this godforsaken hellhole."

The vampire's stomach plummeted and his head whirled. He was married to Angewomon and was only committed to her. He had been a very sexual being when he ruled Server, but as an angel, he felt true love for one womon and therefore made love to her the vampiric way. The more traditional method humans utilized had been nothing but to fill his empty void and appetite for lust. And now, even that method was considered adulterous if done to a being other than Angewomon.

"No!" he demanded. "Never will I stoop so low as to be unfaithful to Angewomon, my true love to whom I am married!"

"Ah," said Toxidramon, "but if you love Angewomon so much and want to return to her… couldn't you cheat on her once?"

"Never. I will remain faithful to our wedding vows until the end, and that is final."

"I know what's happening," said Daemon. "I know she's so ill she's in danger of dying, and so is your unborn child. If you don't return to her soon, both of them will be wiped from the face of reality forever. You know your virus has the potential to wipe Digimon out of existence permanently… and only you can heal her, as Wizardmon and Angewomon are about to discover. If you want her to live, you had better satiate LadyDevimon's appetite immediately."

Myotismon stared ahead of him, caught between a rock and a hard place. If he broke his vows, Angewomon would live, but if he remained faithful, she would die.

It seemed then as if she were speaking to him.

_I understand,_ echoed her voice. _In the name of love, nothing is unjustified. I'll be with you through this. Just imagine me in LadyDevimon's place, and everything will be fine._

The vision of Aeronumon in Myotismon's head seemed to nod in agreement and hold his hand.

It was clear what he had to commit.

"Daemon," said Myotismon, "in exchange for my freedom, I consent to LadyDevimon's requests. Take me to her!"

The door to the cell slid open and banged against the wall, and the monster and the demon parted so the vampire could walk between them. They escorted him through the dungeon halls and out of the dank, hazy castle interior. A stagecoach drawn by a MegaDramon and a GigaDramon appeared outside, and Daemon motioned for Myotismon to step inside. It was much like the interior of his own stagecoach, only the sense that the transportation was part of him had been replaced by fear and anticipation. The carriage, with Daemon and Toxidramon bringing up the rear, floated into the air and jolted as it took off into the distance above the ocean. The vampire felt as if he were alone, enveloped by trepidation. There was no turning back.

* * *

To be continued… 


	7. The Virus

A/N: I don't have much to say. I've been sick all weekend, plus I'm trying to finish my college applications and AP Chemistry homework as well. I did my best with this chapter. There is some lime (or orange or tangerine or whatever you'd call "creative kissing") but nothing too dirty.

* * *

Chapter 7  
The Virus

After a most lengthy flight through the digital world's ominously dark sky, Angemon and Wizardmon sensed the presence of evil creeping into them as they neared the source of their greatest afflictions: Nightmare Castle. On the summit of the darkest, most immense mountain in the range that split Server in half, the castle had been a grey stone citadel and fortress, so dark it was almost black, shadowed by the omnipresent nimbus cloud as black as the vampire's former mantle. When the angel and the wizard arrived, the visual state had changed dramatically; Nightmare Castle had been reduced to the heart of the digital world's darkness to a crumbling ruin atop a towering mountain.

Angemon shuddered, for as he breathed, he was struck by the lingering stench of Evil that seeped through the cracks and cobwebs in the windows. He turned to Wizardmon, and the wizard gave him an empathetic (and somewhat fearful) glance, as if he could sense the odor himself.

They landed on the stone doorstep before the heavy wooden doors that signified the transition from Neutral to Evil, the gateway to Digimon Hell. The brass door-knockers on both sides of the portal were frightening in themselves; beasts that appeared to have been poached from the Inferno themselves and transformed into door-knockers for the purpose of a greater evil. Their mouths widely opened, their eyes squinted shut, painful expressions adorning their faces, bat-shaped wings erect, and no crease or tuft of fur had been overlooked in their craft.

Wizardmon felt a shiver travel down his spine as he glanced into their eyes. "I don't know whether to fear them or sympathize with them," he thought aloud.

"It shouldn't concern you," Angemon reminded his companion. "We're here to find the antidote for Angewomon." He gathered his strength and pushed the door open with a creak that sounded like a howling banshee. They hurried into the castle, letting the door to slam behind them.

"_Luminé,"_commanded Wizardmon, and the sun ornament atop his staff glowed like a lantern, shining light through the abandoned front hall. The air was thick with dust and the musty odor of ancient linen. Silken cobwebs filled the corners and adorned the brass chandelier on the ceiling like a gown. Tarnished knight armor, swords, shields, and empty torches lined the walls, and a tattered carpet lay on the stone floor. A stone staircase curved from across the room to into the darkness above, flanked by several passageways.

"All the other Digimon must have escaped," murmured Angemon.

"Or died trying…" whispered the young sorcerer. "Come," he added, a little too brusquely, "let's go to the study. We might find it there."

Their steps echoed as they journeyed up the stone staircase. Wizardmon knew the entire castle by heart; it had its own eerie feel to it… it was as if Myotismon himself had never truly become an angel and still resided there, waiting to seize Wizardmon again. No bat screeches or wails of Bakemon or tormented prisoners could be heard, except in the wizard's memory. The only sound that accompanied them was the faint dripping of water from the ceiling.

Staircase after staircase they climbed, ascending one long line of steps, moving over the landing and zigzagging through a long hallway until they found a set of double doors similar to those at the entrance. These were magohany and had silver bats for knobs. In the center of each bat's head, carved and filled with perfectly-cut ruby, was the letter M.

"I still feel the fear of approaching these doors," reminisced Wizardmon, wincing as if he had been whipped. "It was a gamble, indeed—whenever Myotismon was inside, we never knew if he wanted visitors or not… when he did, he told us to come in; when he didn't, which was often…" He shivered, remembering each lashing down his back with the Crimson Lightning.

"He is not here anymore, Wizardmon," the angel reassured the wizard, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But his presence still remains…"

They opened the door and stepped inside the study. To Angemon, the stench of Evil hit him full-force, but he knew that he had to endure it for the sake of Good. It was exactly as the wizard had remembered it, only time had taken a toll on it. Clouds of dust floated around, and webs clung to everything. The leather chairs near the fireplace and the wooden one upholstered in velvet lay abandoned, as well as the ebony desk decked with an open book, a quill pen and ink, and a candelabra. The fireplace, once ablaze with golden light, had become a home to nothing but half-burned logs and soot. The crimson rug embroidered with gold still lay on the floor, and Wizardmon shuddered as he saw several outlines of bloodstains where the carpet did not cover the stone. Two sides of the room—the ones that did not have the doors or the fireplace—flanked it with bookcases that reached up to the ceiling, enclosing yellowed pages of wisdom bound in paceboard and leather.

Angemon contemplated the thousands of books. "This is hopeless; he could have found the virus in any of these!" He strode over to the shelf on his left and began to read the titles. "_Hamlet, Macbeth, The Art of War, Phantom of the Opera, The Scarlet Letter, A Tale of Two Cities,_ _Beowulf, _an entire series of Edgar Allan Poe… an _advanced chess manual!_"

"I doubt he'd write on the literature," Wizardmon pointed out. "He was quite the intellectual and took pride in owning classic works. Those were his entertainment; I believe it's the records of the digital world that we're looking for."

Angemon stared at the vast selection before him. "How…"

"The records are on the other side of the room, Angemon. He's written on those, and somewhere in that haystack we will find that coveted needle." The wizard levitated several books off the shelf and dropped them onto the desk. "We must start looking now. You can take those, and I'll glance through these."

The angel was already impatient. "Can't we at least use a spell—"

"I've tried that before; the ink he uses is enchanted. He was quite the alchemist as well, and he knew that others would want to gain an edge over them. He was always one step ahead."

Angemon uttered a scornful cough, then sat at the desk and took a heavy volume written in Ancient Digicode, then heaved a sigh. Although all Angel Digimon had taken lessons until they were fluent in the code, Angemon still loathed translating it. Fortunately for him, when he turned a page and laid his eyes on the text and many diagrams, he saw Myotismon's untidy handwriting scattered across the margins and even between the paragraphs and on the diagrams. Although it was difficult deciphering the vampire's atrocious penmanship, he still thought it was better than translating page upon page of Ancient Digicode. Occasionally he saw what he believed to be the key, but realized it was something different and resumed this tedious task.

Wizardmon sat against the shelf, the staff leaning against it beside him. He, too, felt as if this was one of the worst jobs ever, but remembering Angewomon, he knew he had to take it all in like bad medicine.

Hours passed, and the wizard felt as if he were traveling an arduous road where every turn led to a dead end. The text began to spin before his eyes… so many words and symbols! His head began to float into the darkness above him as his eyes softly closed. Suddenly, the exhausted wizard flopped onto the book, ripping the parchment as he fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

He fell into a memory that had burrowed into a corner of his mind and failed to emerge until that moment. The wizard trudged back to his dungeon cell with a flock of other Digimon; they had been training in the Digi-Gauntlet all day under the watchful eye of SkullMeramon. The last place Wizardmon desired to be at the moment was anywhere that required any sort of movement, for all his joints and muscles throbbed with pain every time he moved a finger. Before they reached the doors that led to their only sanctuary, Phantomon floated up to SkullMeramon and whispered something in his ear. (Wizardmon secretly hoped that the phantom's robes would be singed, but they were not.)

The fire demon grunted, then growled in his limited vocabulary, "You guys, go to your rooms. Wizardmon, go with Phantomon. Master needs you."

Phantomon nodded underneath his grey cloak, and Wizardmon could feel his insides protesting. He wanted to rest so badly, or possibly collapse and die to end everything. He refused to open his mouth about the pain; Phantomon or SkullMeramon would drag him along on a chain, so he decided to make use of his staff.

Silently, and turning his staff into a makeshift crutch, he followed the spectre until they reached the study doors. Phantomon knocked on them using the blunt end of his scythe.

"Come in," said the mature, authoritative voice from the other side, and the doors opened on their own.

Phantomon glared at Wizardmon, as if to say "don't follow me," and floated inside. "Master Myotismon, I have told SkullMeramon about Wizardmon."

"Is the wizard with you?" demanded the vampire.

"Yes, Lord Myotismon, and he is beyond willing to serve you." (Wizardmon had half a mind to shout "Liar!" but thought twice and remained silent.)

"Send him in, Phantomon."

Phantomon peeked from around the door and slowly moved his hand back and forth, beckoning the wizard to enter. Not wishing to sink into any more hot water than he might have been, he limped in, attempting not to show any signs of pain. He saw the vampire seated at his desk, holding his quill pen in one hand and a crystal chalice of red wine in the other. He set both on the desk and turned around in his chair until he faced the trembling wizard.

"Wizardmon, do you know why I summoned you?" questioned Myotismon, his voice sounding too gentle.

_Punishment,_ thought Wizardmon. _Torment, tongue-lashing, Crimson Lightning, Grisly Wing, the Gauntlet, swords, being fed to DarkTyrannomon, thrown in the fire, disembowelment, starvation, death… of Gatomon._ Hundreds of conventional and morbidly creative tortures inflicted on himself and other Digimon flashed through his head at lightning speed. He gulped. "No… I don't."

Myotismon licked his amethyst lips until they glistened, relishing the wizard's fear. He could smell and taste it all. "I have found you to be a most commendable servant this month, Wizardmon," he explained, standing up to his full seven feet in height. "Which is why I am in need of your assistance for a most… special assignment." He bared his fangs in a sinister grin and chuckled to himself. Wizardmon felt himself cowering in fear, forgetting his aching muscles. Nothing was worse than when Myotismon showed no signs of anger; he was completely unpredictable. "Follow me," he said, and with a swish of his dark cape he headed out the doors to the study.

Wizardmon knew that he had to or suffer the consequences, so despite his pain he tried to keep up the best he could, keeping himself from wincing whenever the vampire glanced backwards, which was quite often.

Finally, they reached the dreaded tower in which the foul stench of potions floated downward and ambushed those who ventured near it. The wizard had heard of Digimon coming to horrible ends in that laboratory—poisoned or infected to death, or growing misshapen and deformed. Wizardmon could not decide whether he wanted to die or live the rest of his life as an amoeba or colloid mess.

The doors opened to reveal the interior of this crude, outdated laboratory. Half of the shelves were lined with jars and vials filled with brilliantly-hued but possibly deadly potions; the other half contained various ingredients, such as other potions, liquids, herbs, objects, and even body parts. The wizard felt as if he were going to vomit when he saw a gigantic jar stuffed with severed Gesomon tentacles which still violently squirmed. A gigantic black cauldron bubbled in the center as a filmy white steam curled into the air above it, suspended over a blazing pit of fire, and a wooden table with apothecary scales and various knives (as well as bloodstains) stood next to it like a guardian. The room had a dank, dusty atmosphere and was lit by the the torches on the walls. There were skylights on the ceiling as well, but since it was a new moon, no light shone through them. Wizardmon also noticed that several potion ingredients lay on the table, and he wondered what would become of him.

"I suppose you are wondering why I have summoned you to my laboratory," said the vampire, approaching a shelf and lifting a jar off. Inside it was a single eye that would not take its gaze off of Wizardmon, who gulped nervously. Myotismon placed it on the table alongside two other ambiguous items. "As a creature of the night who assumes human form, I am not gifted with the deep knowledge that has been bestowed upon you. What I have read in books has merely scratched the surface of your natural talent for Dark magic." He then strode to the cauldron and gazed musingly into it. "Wizardmon, your power is immense, and I am only capable of so much as a vampire. I have been blessed with immortality… but I need more." He took a tiny crystal vial filled with a violet liquid off one of the shelves, and his fangs elongated. He handed it to Wizardmon, who eyed it suspiciously. "Drink," he commanded, his hand glowing. "I have been saving this for you, so do not disappoint me."

Wizardmon was beyond suspicious at that point. He knew that he would die… but there was a slight chance that he would not. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but no hexes or poisons seemed to be present. But there was a possibility that the vial was enchanted…

"Wizardmon, I promise that you will not die or be reconfigured if you drink this, nor will this alter your physical state," said Myotismon. "Now drink, damn you," he hissed.

The wizard uncorked the tube, and a hissing sound erupted. He drank it all down, figuring that if he were to die, it would be his escape. It tasted sour and burned him as it went down. The burning entered his bloodstream and seemed to eat away at him from the inside… but nothing happened to him. No dissolving… nothing!

Two blades entered the nape of his neck, and he felt Myotismon sucking his life away, gorging on his blood as if it had been his first meal in weeks. But… he did not feel lightheaded or weak as he usually had when the vampire did this to him… he felt conscious and alive, but… something was missing, but he could not figure out what.

Myotismon pulled his fangs out of the wizard's neck, and Wizardmon demanded, "What the devil did you do to me?"

The vampire chuckled. "Attack me if you wish, but you will find that it is quite impossible. For you see, the potion has allowed me to drain you of your power and keep it for one glorious night… ah, I can feel it surging through my veins, and a new knowledge imbuing itself in me… it is ecstasy to me!"

Wizardmon gasped. He knew Myotismon was correct; no matter how much he wanted to attack or place a hex on his master, he could not even remember the simplest incantation.

"And now…" With a flick of his wrist, the door slammed shut and locked itself, and the wizard was rendered petrified. "…watch what I am capable of doing with your power." He strode over to the cauldron, allowing the objects on the table to hover in the air. The potion boiled to the point where the smoke billowed through the skylights. Wizardmon watched in horror. "I have spent an entire month creating what will soon be the deadliest and only incurable virus in the history of the digital world, but to give it its deadliness and incurability, it now needs the power of a wizard, as well as my own personal touch! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The jars around the remaining ingredients vanished, revealing the eye, a white feather, and a glass orb filled with a blue flame. The vampire's clothing magically transformed from his cerulean suit and black cape into robes as black as night and crimson as blood—the attire of the Dark wizards. Hanging from a leather belt slung around his thin waist was a dagger in a black scabbard.

The eye descended into Myotismon's hand, and he held it over the center of the potion. "_Eye of Daemon, track down your victims and watch as you smite them with your deadly stare!" _He placed it in the center of the liquid, where it floated for a brief second, then sank downward with a nasty hiss. The potion turned bright red and emitted smoke of the same color with fire in the center. Next came the feather. "_Feather of the fallen Angemon, assist in the travel, spreading your black magic!"_ When the feather hit the surface, it turned into a blue ink that bled through the liquid and turned it purple. Blue curliques rose in the midst of the crimson smoke. Finally, the orb fell into the vampire's hand, and he fingered it longily before placing it in the exact center. He held his hands over it. "_Fire of the Inferno, power the virus with the flames of Hell!_" The orb vanished, and the blue flames spread over the surface, towering so high they licked the ceiling. Screams of the tormented rose from the blaze, and then they died down to become but a flickering light dancing on the surface.

Myotismon was far from finished. He unsheathed the dagger, then held his left hand over the cauldron. Wizardmon knew what he was about to do. Myotismon held the blade but an inch from the exact center of the palm, then recited the spell, but sang. His singing voice was surprisingly beautiful. "_Blood of the Virus, send the power of your soul… create a viral Angel of Death, the work of your very hands… my Evil rests within you!_" He drove the blade directly into his hand, and his crimson blood spurted out of the wound and flowed down his hand into the cauldron. Although the vampire winced, he continued, the dagger still lodged in his hand. "_Debau, DOMÉ!"_ The fabled words—"Evil, prevail!" He thrusted the blade even deeper, then quickly wrenched it out, holding his hand over the cauldron. Wizardmon watched his master stumble and grab onto the side of the table, spilling his own blood onto it, losing consciousness as the potion transformed again—a sinister black, with an enormous spout of black smoke filling the room and stinging the inside of the wizard's nose. He wanted to cough so badly… he wanted to die… he felt as if he were trapped in the thunderhead above the castle, feeling so hopeless and alone…

When he finally recovered, the cauldron was completely empty, and no smoke erupted from it. The wizard felt as if he had regained his powers, and the vampire lay unconscious on the floor, in his normal militant attire.

He had created the virus.

* * *

"_It's INCURABLE!_" Wizardmon's eyes sprang open as the words escaped his mouth. "Angemon, the virus has no cure!"

Angemon glared at Wizardmon. "It does too have a cure, you dolt! We just haven't found it yet! We're not looking hard enough!"

Wizardmon grabbed his staff and walked up to where Angemon sat. "I remember everything… I had a dream where it all came back to me. Myotismon created the virus to be completely incurable from Daemon's eye, fallen Angemon's feathers, and… Hell's flame…? And then he used his own blood…"

"You're out of your mind, Wizardmon," said Angemon. "No virus is incurable, regardless of what ingredients are used!"

The two walked towards the nearest bookcase, and Angemon held _A Full History of Digital Alchemy_ out where the wizard could see. "I found this passage," he continued, pointing to a page in the foreword. "It says that for every virus, there is an antidote."

"Yes," said Wizardmon, reading the text underneath and pointing to it. "But it also says that if the creator is a Virus and he adds his own blood to it… there is no cure, unless the creator chooses to do so himself."

"Well that is just great," said Angemon sarcastically. "Fantastic. Wonderful. We come all this way here and read our way through incomprehensible scrawlings just to discover that Myotismon made his virus incurable? DAMN HIM! He might not even return alive, and Angewomon will be dead thanks to him. DAMN YOU TO HELL, MYOTISMON!" He attacked the bookcase with his Hand of Fate, and he and Wizardmon barely escaped as it crashed onto the floor, destroying hundreds of valuable records. Suddenly, he gasped when he saw what was painted on the wall behind the shelves. "Dear Goddramon," he breathed, backing away in awe. "A prophecy!"

Surely enough, a full prophecy was displayed on the stone—a history of AngeMyotismon and Myotismon Celestial Mode, it seemed, which the vampire had never known about. A crude figure of Wizardmon pointed his rod at the caped, faceless figure, and then it showed a version of him adorned in white with the six bat wings. Above him was a half-sun, half-moon with the Crest of Light inside it. Angemon gazed at a symbolic retelling of Myotismon's story until he reached the crucial point where the vampire had been sent into the Dark Ocean.

He arrived at a picture to which he did not know the meaning very well. There was what looked like a completely open Gate of Destiny—the ring and the markings matched it exactly. Inside it was Myotismon in the midst of flames holding hands with a very pregnant Angewomon in the clouds. Above it was the moon, and below it was the sun. Between the vampire and the angel, above their heads, was a brilliant Crest of Light that seemed to shine down on both of them.

Angemon read the markings on the Gate more closely, and discovered that they were not the same as what was written on his Gate. _The Light and the Darkness shall overcome the ravaging Evil within them, and from the Angel's loins the Last Scion will break free, restoring the balance that has once ceased to exist…_ "Who's the Last Scion?" he wondered aloud.

Wizardmon, who had been reading the Gate as well, gasped. "Do you know what this means, Angemon?" he asked. "They'll both be alive and well!"

* * *

Myotismon, indeed, was still alive, but far from well as Daemon led him down the halls, shackles fastened around his neck as if he were a dog on a leash. Daemon pulled the chain that was attached to it, and the vampire walked more quickly down the dark hallways. These were eerie like the interior of Nightmare Castle, but in a different manner. The walls were completely black, but hundreds of prophecies were painted on them with phosphorescent ink, bathing whoever walked down the halls in red or green light. Every one of them depicted Marinedevimon or one of the Demon Corps conquering the Dark Ocean and tormenting tribes of condemned Digimon. There was not one picture of him among them, and the vampire breathed a silent sigh of relief. He would never have wanted to be immortalized on a wall in this pathetic state…

The tunnels grew narrower and narrower, and the markings grew sparse. They reached a set of double doors made out of black stained glass with silver handles, which the vampire could barely see through. The dragon and the demon unchained Myotismon, and Toxidramon grabbed his skinny arm before he had the chance to bolt or attack.

Both demons opened the doors wide to reveal a room made of the same black glass—except for the ceiling, which was possibly obsidian, supported by silver framework. The ceiling was covered with white symbols—not of prophecy, but representations of everything related to copulation and procreation for humanoids and beasts alike. Across the room, on a round bed with blue silken sheets and pillows and draped with a blue veil, was LadyDevimon. Instead of her revealing leather outfit, she wore what appeared to be black human lingerie and was missing her mask. Several stitched scars spanned her face.

The doors slammed shut behind the two, leaving them alone.

"I was hoping you would arrive soon, Myotismon," purred LadyDevimon. "You look like you could use some indulgence of the senses… forget about Angewomon and make love to me even better than before!" She eyed his scanty white suit. "And it looks as if you've already arrived prepared for tonight…"

The vampire said nothing as he reluctantly approached the bed and placed his hands on his upper belt, prepared to undo it.

"_Keep your trousers on!_" commanded the demoness in an unnervingly sharp tone of voice, and Myotismon gave a sigh of relief. Suddenly he realized what kind of love-making this meant, and he wished that he could have been granted the other choice. "I have already been acquainted with your monhood and don't wish for any more… because I've heard of what you did to Angewomon." She pushed her white hair over her shoulder, exposing her throbbing neck. "Please, give me the vampire's kiss… make love to me like a vampire would, and not a human!" She pulled the vampire onto the bed and lay on him so his body was pressed against hers, then she began to run her tongue down his pointed ear. He felt a tingling and somewhat disoriented when she wound her way down his neck and started to playfully nibble at him. She giggled as he moaned without realizing it.

_Angewomon, I apologize… I… I…_ He lost all thought as LadyDevimon pressed her lips against his and forced her tongue into his mouth, then stopping for air and feeling her way into his mouth again. He started to feel lust overpowering him and gave into the feeling, closing his eyes and running his fingers through her hair and up and down her back. Her neck looked so beautiful then… filled with her forbidden blood…

The passionate kisses lasted for a long time, and both grew weary. The demoness proceeded downward, where his skin was exposed but not venturing into any forbidden places. She explored his chest with her kisses, striving to avoid his sensitive scar as he descended into an old relapse of the wrong kind of pleasure.

"Are you prepared to bite my neck yet, or would you like some more?" she wondered.

Myotismon unyieldingly surrendered, staring at the images swirling above him on the ceiling. That was when he saw the drawing—in one part of the ceiling, a human male and female were depicted in the act of coitus, and next to it was a woman who was swollen with child, appearing to be full of grief as if she were watching her husband committing adultery.

"I grow weary," said LadyDevimon, laying her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating quickly as she lazily ran her finger down his stomach. "Won't you kiss me? You know you want to… I want you to, my archangel of darkness…" She ran her fingers up and down him, feeling his muscles. "You're so tense, but why? I'm with you, and I know what you enjoy…" She proceeded downward with her kisses, and he winced as she reached around his navel, where he could still feel the burn from Toxidramon's poisonous whip. The scene above him bore into the vampire's mind, and he could see it when he closed his eyes.

"What's the matter? Am I hurting you?" wondered the demoness. "How could I be? You love this and want to sink your fangs into my neck… or else you want me to go—"

"NEVER!" shouted Myotismon, forcing LadyDevimon off of him. "I will never give into the so-called pleasure you gave me, and I will never be unfaithful to Angewomon!" He leapt off the bed and brandished his Crimson Lightning, relieved that the effects of the potion had worn off. "Tell me where the portal to Earth is or taste my Crimson Lightning!"

"It's in the castle," said LadyDevimon, grinning. "But you will never find it. Once Lord Daemon discovers that you never gave me the vampire's kiss, he will have your head… if not your life!"

Myotismon turned his back on the demoness and left the room in search of the portal. He had barely traveled for ten minutes when a voice rang out in the hallways, familiar to him but different from Daemon's or Toxidramon's.

"Stay where you are, Myotismon Celestial Mode!" shouted the being, whose demonic silhouette glowed farther down the hallways. "I have unfinished business to take care of."

It was at that point the vampire realized who it was. "InfernoDevimon!" he shouted, prepared to attack.

* * *

To be continued… 


	8. InfernoDevimon

A/N: You'll find out a secret about this foe from the beginning. Maybe you guessed it by now (Adalia Glenys did, although maybe she only had a premonition about it!) or maybe you haven't thought anything about it, but the secret identity of a character… wait, the secret identities of TWO characters are revealed! Also, you'll see some foreshadowing into… it's best you found that out later.

* * *

Chapter 8  
InfernoDevimon

The vampire faced his nemesis, whom he wished to destroy again. "InfernoDevimon!" he shouted.

The demon's fire-framed silhouette leapt into the air, blazed through it like a fireball, and landed in front of the vampire. His glowing crimson eyes were focused on the scar on Myotismon's chest, then he glanced up at his face. "Myotismon Celestial Mode," he addressed him again. "Little did I expect to find you here… until the Master told me about you." The demon bore a remarkable resemblance to Devimon—he wore the same mask except it was golden and had the symbol of a flame embossed on the front, his bodysuit was as red as his eyes and torn to reveal a physique bulging with muscles, his neck and limbs were wrapped in silver chains, gold-plated boots adorned his feet, and his torn wings were ablaze. A long mane of coal-black hair trailed down his back.

"I did not expect you to be here, either," said Myotismon, his words biting into InfernoDevimon. "I thought you'd be scarring _other_ angels like you scarred me. Do you have _any idea_ how much misery this has given me!" He pointed to the glowing X on his chest. "It throws me back into the most agonizing memories of my past, and when I am not there, it hurts like the very Hell from whence you came!"

InfernoDevimon cracked a malicious grin. "There is a lot about me you do not know, Celestial Mode…" He stared into Myotismon's eyes, blood-red into ice-blue, relishing the suspense. "And you never will know, either! INFERNO WING!" _A la_ Myotismon's former Grisly Wing attack, the demon outstretched his arms to unleash a sea of bats completely made of white-hot flames, flying directly at the vampire, who tried to shield himself with his cape, but they were beginning to burn through it.

Myotismon clenched his teeth, breathing in the smell of his own scorching defense. He knew he did not want to attack, but this was the only way he could escape. "ELYSIAN SWORD!" He whipped himself around as a glowing sword formed in his hands. He pointed it directly at the bats, and a dazzling beam of white light shot out of it. The winged creatures screamed in agony, and their ashes and flames rained onto the ground.

"Don't think I'm fazed by your pathetic little knife," scoffed InfernoDevimon. "SATANIC SCEPTER!"

Immediately, a red-hot scepter with three pointed ends appeared in his hands. He thrusted it at the vampire, who quickly blocked it with his sword. Myotismon pushed the Elysian Sword into the Satanic Scepter and forced InfernoDevimon backwards. Then the demon quickly swung it downwards, and Myotismon blocked it in time. He was beginning to perspire from the unbearable heat, so he backed away towards a nearby wall, still trying to shield himself from the flame.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" Myotismon quickly took the sword in one hand and formed a whip of Crimson Lightning in the other. That attack was the only one the vampire had retained when he mode changed, and he was incredibly relieved. He shot the electrified blood out at InfernoDevimon and struck his left arm.

The demon screamed and leapt backwards, nearly dropping the scepter. "Two attacks at once, eh?" he asked through the obvious agony. "I see you don't play fair."

"Neither do you, you tool," retorted the vampire. "All you are is a pawn for this so-called master."

"All _you_are is half the mon you are," said InfernoDevimon. "For you see, your sword is melting!" He chuckled as Myotismon glanced in horror at the contorted sword, which had several holes in the side from where the scepter touched it and was melting into a rounded blob on its hilt. He hastily made it dissolve and created another sword out of his Crimson Lightning. "And don't think your pathetic blood is going to stop me! If I could give you a scar from not even trying, imagine what I'm capable of when I actually do try! PURGATORIAN HOLOCAUST!"

Myotismon's eyes widened. That was the attack that had scorched the agony into his heart. He saw the cross-shaped blaze shoot straight at him for the second time.

"HEAVEN'S NIGHTFALL!" he exclaimed. "SHIELD!" He held out both his hands, and the Crimson Lightning disappeared, replaced by dark force field that shot out of his hands and spread out in front of him. He was beginning to feel exhausted already, but the cross started to burn into it. He clenched his entire face together, harnessing all of his energy into summoning the powers of the night.

"DARKNESS WAVE!" exclaimed a voice from behind him. Suddenly, he was whipped and forced to the ground, the shield vanishing into thin air. He turned around to see LadyDevimon about to whip him, her grey cheeks streaked with tears. "Don't attack, InfernoDevimon. I'll take care of him."

"LadyDevimon!" Myotismon exclaimed. "I thought you…"

"You… you would rather find Angewomon than love me, you one-womon bastard!" the demoness cried. "I gave you that last chance, and you seized it by the horns… when you should have seized _me _by _my horns!_"

"But you don't have any—"

"_SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!_ I only gave you that choice because I thought you'd make love to me and compete the transition rather than risk your life… but _I lied!_ There were no hazards roaming these halls, and I was going to ambush you and steal you away! But now… it looks as if you are outnumbered, vampire scum. DARKNESS WAVE!"

"ELYSIAN SWORD!" Myotismon regenerated his glowing white sword, more powerful than ever, and it emitted a white light at LadyDevimon, who was hurled against the wall before she could attack.

"INFERNO WING!"

The vampire felt the bats burning through the cape and searing the skin on his back with their flames and poisonous fangs. Every nip drew blood, and it trickled down his back and legs, onto the floor.

_I am immortal._

His breathing staggered, but he knew he had to play through the pain.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" he shouted, but the whip was but a red string that barely emitted a charge. He coughed and fell to his knees.

_I am immortal… unless they destroy my Digi-Egg! Don't let them reconfigure me… oh, Goddramon, please… why have you forsaken me?_

The bats burned themselves in deeper, tearing his flesh apart and hitting bone. He glanced up at LadyDevimon, whom he knew would give him a second chance…

"DARKNESS WAVE!"

A whip crashed down onto the vampire's back, and the pain was so intense he almost vomited. He fell backwards, feebly attempting to protect any exposed skin with his arms and legs, but all was in vain.

"Mag… Magna…" Myotismon tried to summon his most powerful attack, but could not find any strength to do so. He squinted into LadyDevimon's face, and saw nothing but her thirst for revenge… and now he would die…

All this time, InfernoDevimon had been concentrating. There was something about the vampire that had given him a sense of more than just _déjà vu, _but he felt as if that he and the vampire had been connected in some fashion. He had never seen the Celestial Mode prior to his great battle with him in the heavens, but he knew he had heard the name somewhere… _Myotismon…_ the scar was not meant for him, but for Angemon; InfernoDevimon had not figured out _why_, though…

Why was he in the digital world? How did he know?

_Why him? How are we connected? Why do I feel like I know him from a past life… why Angemon? Why did I scar him…_

_ Who the devil am I?_

At that brief moment, it felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his mind. It was as if he were no longer InfernoDevimon, but…

It was also at that moment when LadyDevimon was milliseconds from attacking.

"DARKNESS—"

"_HOLD YOUR FIRE, LADYDEVIMON!_" shouted InfernoDevimon. LadyDevimon looked shocked, and Myotismon looked frightened beyond his wits. He looked at the vampire and murmured, "I won't let her lay a finger on you." He stared into the demoness's eyes and advanced on her, feigning interest in killing the vampire. He even formed a Satanic Scepter in his hand, pointing it downward. "I'll finish my foe off," he announced. "SATANIC SWORD!"

Without another word, he thrusted it directly into LadyDevimon's chest and nailed her to the wall.

Dark grey liquid spilled out from between her breasts, and she gave a maniacal grin. "You think you're so powerful by sticking a piece of cutlery into my chest, InfernoDevimon… you always were the cocky one! But when Lord Devidramon finds out… you're done for, you hear me? YOUR HEAD WILL GO THE WAY OF ME!" With a final evil laugh, she and the scepter dissolved. The vampire blacked out and fell to the floor.

* * *

He awoke hours, possibly days later, back in his bed in the lighthouse on the cape. He was only in his trousers, and much of the skin above it was wrapped with bloodstained cloth. His back hurt like hell, and he was astounded to still be alive after all he had been through. Even more shocking was the fact that InfernoDevimon stood at the foot of the bed, holding a cracked porcelain pitcher full of what looked like water and another cloth.

"You're awake," observed the demon.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the vampire.

"I'm not who you think I am," replied InfernoDevimon. "Believe me, I am not a demon at all, but rather a friend's heart wrapped in a demonic husk. For months this evil form has blocked out all light from my soul and blotted out every memory I had before I dark digivolved… up until LadyDevimon attacked you. I know you have no recollection of who I am, for we never met. You see, I had known Angemon and Angewomon… and when you were AngeMyotismon, I assisted Angewomon in traveling to the real world."

The vampire was rendered speechless. If it had not been for him, AngeMyotismon would have never had the will to live…

"My real name is PyroAngemon… and I am an angel who is not only fallen, but condemned. It is time I clean your wounds now, but they are nearly fully healed. Your cape has almost been fully regenerated as well." The fallen angel pointed to a chair, where the self-mending cape sat, only a few holes remaining in the silvery fabric. He turned Myotismon over and removed the bandages. The wounds were almost completely healed and did not even leave any scars, although they still hurt when exposed to air. The vampire winced as he felt the wet cloth against his back, but InfernoDevimon decided to tell him the story.

* * *

PyroAngemon, after his death at the hands of Myotismon Shadow Mode, felt his data traveling to the Crossroads beyond the Gate of Destiny. The world dissolved before him, and he found himself, whole again, at the dreaded Crossroads, awaiting his final judgement.

A dragon plated in gold, borne on six pure, magnificent angel wings, floated at the very center of the Crossroads; a mystical, starry background that was quite unlike that of Earth and the digital world, but bore a remarkable resemblance with a planet below them and a moon above them. "I am Goddramon, Guardian of the Winds," he said in a voice so sonorous and beautiful that nearly crippled PyroAngemon with awe. Behind the holy dragon, four mysterious figures obscured by the darkness materialized. "And this is all that remains of the Grand Angel Council," he continued.

"Do not think we have forgotten about you, PyroAngemon," a grave male voice said.

"Your insubordination has cost us every touch of the world below," boomed a second, which was deeper and more authoritative than the first. "Civitas Dei has remained hidden in the heavens where no one has seen."

"The digital world has been reduced to a constant battle between the light and the darkness," continued the only female voice of the group. "There was no Good or Evil before we left… only now, the light calls itself the more righteous of the two, though no one can tell which one is anymore. Entire species of Digimon have been wiped off the face of the digital world, and so many Digi-Destined have been summoned…"

"Angel blood has been wiped thin… down to a mere trickle," said the fourth, which belonged to the head angel of the Council. "It is because of you that the digital world is not in need of a Digi-Destined… but a Chosen One."

"Goddramon, why can't you do anything about it?" wondered PyroAngemon. "You're the holiest of all, and considered a god."

"Yes, it is true, but I am not truly a dragon," explained Goddramon. "As a matter of fact, I am barely anything at all…" In an instant, the dragon disappeared to reveal a fist-sized orb floating in the nether regions of space and filled with a glowing white mist. "This, PyroAngemon, is my true form. I merely assume the role of a dragon to be recognized as your god. And even then… I only exist in the Crossroads."

"But what about—" the fiery angel began, but was cut off by the orb.

"In due time, PyroAngemon, but for now, the Council is to decide your fate. And judging by what I have seen, you are in for an agonizing eternity."

The angel perspired from his own fire, it seemed. Everything swam before him, like a dream, as the four Angel Council members conversed silently before him. His record was riddled with blemishes, though they stemmed from good intentions. He did not have a positive rapport with Angemon, and by Goddramon, Angemon was friends with every single angel in Civitas Dei, it seemed! He knew what his fate would be, and it was bestowed upon only two other angels before him… the second was the fallen Angemon who became Devimon; the first was—

The four angels turned and faced their prey.

"PyroAngemon," said the leader, "by my power and authority as leader of the Grand Angel Council of the Digital World, I hereby strip you of your wings and condemn you to the Dark Ocean, where you will suffer for eternity _as a demon!_" He took his sword in his hand and struck the angel's helmet. With a bang, it cracked open, exposing his face, which he promptly covered. All six of PyroAngemon's wings were sliced off, one by one as the now-fallen angel hid his tears of shame. Suddenly, his body and attire underwent a transformation—his suit became leather, like Devimon's, only it was torn and tattered; flaming bat wings unfolded on his back; and two horns—his crowning glory—painfully protruded from the sides of his head.

The heavens ripped themselves a hole, through which the fallen angel could see his fate. Suddenly, he plummeted through the tear, seeing the solemn faces of the Council and the orb of Goddramon above him. The rip closed, as if it had sewn itself together, and InfernoDevimon landed in the ocean with a mighty splash.

* * *

"That's the last of what I remembered… until I was taken by a strange demon Digimon in crimson robes… his face was in shadows, but I saw his eyes glowing through, and…" InfernoDevimon trailed off, having finished putting fresh cloth on Myotismon's wounds. "He had… he had some sort of _pendant_ around his neck… it was as if he sucked out my memories of being PyroAngemon, and he replaced them with false recollections of serving him. But hearing your name brought me back. I now realize that you're the one I'm supposed to be fighting for and not against."

"Daemon," said Myotismon thoughtfully.

"Come again?"

"It was Daemon who took you under his cloak. I wonder if he was the one who told you to scar me…"

"Why do you think that?"

"Daemon and I had some… should I say, rough patches in our past. It would be like him to desire revenge on me…"

"No, you are wrong. It was I who scarred you, but the scar was not intended for you at all." InfernoDevimon took a deep breath, contemplating what he was about to say next. "Daemon briefly opened the gate to the digital world when I told him I wanted to give Angemon the scarring of a lifetime. I had aimed for him, but you flew in the direct line of fire and received the full blast, leaving Angemon perfectly unscathed. Angemon was the one who landed me in hot water—pun not intended, of course—and I've been seeking revenge on him ever since. Even… even helping Angewomon travel through the gate was merely an act of revenge… but I realized later that I also wanted to help you. You and I… we're somewhat alike. We've been condemned to the Dark Ocean for simply existing in our forms… we've been punished for unintentional wrongdoings… we're both fallen angels…"

"How could you say that, PyroAngemon? How could you label me as a fallen angel when… I've…"

The vampire's sudden trailing off left an awkward pause in the air. InfernoDevimon glanced warily at him.

"Forgive me for telling you this, but mark my words, it will save your soul. I was taken by a master named DemiDevimon, and he said that you and he were once one of the same. He plotted to pose as a young, naïve Poyomon who was also 'wrongfully committed,' and he would feed off your dark power with the help of Toxidramon and the Demon Corps, who were under his servitude, and would use your past to the fullest extent and turn it against you. With that power, he planned to digivolve and merge souls with you again as… _your Shadow Mode._"

The air was so silent one could have heard a pin drop.

"…Come again?" wondered Myotismon. "Did I not hear you correctly when you said 'your Shadow Mode'?"

"I said it," replied InfernoDevimon, shamefully hanging his head. "Yes, and as the scar I gave you burrows deeper and deeper into your heart, it will create a passageway for your Shadow Mode to enter and infect you… then you will once again become not the Shadow Mode or Celestial Mode… but one Myotismon. You will be exactly the way you had been a year ago… worse than ever, it seems."

The vampire could sense the Evil in his heart already. He knew that it had been no one's fault… but he had to stop it from creating a means for Devidramon to digivolve.

"Listen, the Demon Corps are after you. I will do what I can to protect you in this time of dire need, but for now, you still need to heal. I don't know how long it will be before they arrive, but I have a place where you can hide from their minions."

That evening, as the sky gradually darkened, InfernoDevimon took the liberty of removing the cloth from the vampire's back, and both were pleased to know that every wound had miraculously healed. Myotismon was standing up with no evidence of pain or injury.

"Your strength must be returning," remarked the demon as he burned the cloths and carefully handed Myotismon his fully-mended cape, which the vampire clasped to the top of his uniform. "Angels… their immunity and ability to heal are most amazing…" mused InfernoDevimon.

_Yes, but only if they are injured… no one said a word of being infected by my virus…_

The atmosphere in the lighthouse had an eerie sense of placidity to it—the calm before the storm. Outside, the air grew a deeper grey, and the wind began to howl, as if a storm was brewing. The ocean waves grew to nearly the magnitude of tsunamis, crashing against the rocks and spraying their cold, white foam onto the lighthouse. The air was thick with anticipation and fear. If Myotismon were still a true vampire, he would have drunk it all in, but now he was a part of it. He knew something terrible would happen…

Suddenly, there came a rapping on the door outside, and Myotismon knew who it would be.

"Hide your face, Myotismon," said InfernoDevimon. "They're here for you." He glanced out the window to see an army of Bakemon—_his_ former army of Bakemon—gathering outside the main entrance. "Go!" He grabbed the vampire by the arm and led him down several flights of stairs until they reached the main hall. By then, the rapping had become a strong pounding that would nearly break through the wooden barrier between freedom and condemnation. The demon led his companion into the abandoned kitchen, where he opened a trapdoor that led to a cellar. "Get in here, Myo! It's your only hope! I'll stay here and defend you."

The cellar was filled with thick, choking dust and so dark not even the vampire could see his own hand in front of him. The trapdoor was opened a crack, and from there, his blue eyes could peer through and witness a familiar scene…

The Bakemon burst inside and clogged the doorway to the kitchen, where InfernoDevimon stood guard by the door.

"What the devil do you want?" the demon demanded, in a defensive stance.

"The master wants to know if you have seen Myotismon Celestial Mode," the lead Bakemon promptly answered. "We've traced him back to this lighthouse, and I know he is hiding in here. Don't try to conceal him."

"I haven't seen the bastard since I scarred him," retorted InfernoDevimon.

_"The master wants to know if you have seen a DemiDevimon."_

_ "I see a lot of DemiDevimons. What's it to you?"_

Myotismon wondered if they could hear his rapid heartbeat and heavy breathing. It was his life as Devidramon, replaying before his eyes. This time, he could count on his friend…

The Bakemon frantically flew around the kitchen as InfernoDevimon strategically stood on the trapdoor, which promptly closed. All the vampire could do was listen… and hope…

Crash. Clang. Smash. Cursing. Raucous laughter, then silence. InfernoDevimon still stood firmly on top of the door, indicating that the Bakemon were still present and searching. The kitchen was possibly a shambles, but the one thing that mattered was still intact—

"Well, he's not in here. Why don't we look upstairs?"

There came a sigh of relief from InfernoDevimon.

"Wait… InfernoDevimon, what is that you're standing on?"

"It looks like a trapdoor to me."

"Perfect place for hiding a vampire!"

Myotismon backed away, aware of the peril he was putting himself in. He did not know what was hiding in this cellar, but the Bakemon would know of one 'mon that was _not_. He felt his heart pounding a mile a minute.

InfernoDevimon's voice could be heard, and the panic was evident. "Uh… Bakemon, I checked in there before you came, and I can promise you that Myotismon is not hiding in there."

"How do you know when _you haven't seen him since you scarred him!_"

"That is exactly the point I'm trying to make."

"Well, why don't we check to make sure?"

_"Devidramon? As I recall, there's a Devidramon in here now. He's hiding in the kitchen as we speak."_

_ To the dragon's horror, several Numemons clad in gladiator armor burst into the kitchen and bound him in a gunny sack._

_ "We found him!" they all seemed to be crying at once, ad-libbing as well. Devidramon squirmed and attempted to break free, even attacking for the first time, but this sack seemed to have a force field around it._

_ "Digitamamon, what did you do?" demanded Vegiemon's voice._

_ "He's not blind, you idiot," replied the unhatched lizard. "He's not our problem anymore!"_

_ "Lord Toxidramon thanks you!" exclaimed one of the Numemon._

"You can talk to my INFERNO WING!" shouted InfernoDevimon. Suddenly, there came an agonizing screeching of bats, then the screaming of Bakemon dwindling as they seemed to shoot out of the room like flaming comets. "And stay out!" exclaimed the demon as the door slammed. InfernoDevimon opened the trapdoor as the vampire breathed a sigh of relief. The demon took Myotismon by the hand and helped him out of the dirty cellar.

"That was so close I could feel it…" gasped the vampire as his friend held him closely to comfort him.

"Not close enough, I'm afraid," boomed a deep voice from outside. Suddenly, the lighthouse vanished, and not one single floorboard was left of it. Even the light had disappeared and no longer shone over the ocean. Myotismon and InfernoDevimon let go of each other and whirled around to see the vampire's worst nightmare and most dreaded fear.

Toxidramon stood on one side; Daemon on the other; MarineDevimon in the ocean. In the center of it all, hovering in the air and surrounded by an aura of dark energy and blood-colored light, was Myotismon Shadow Mode in his full villanous glory. He looked exactly like Myotismon, except his eyes glowed a piercingly blue shade that freezed anyone who looked directly at them. He wore a red and black cape similar to that of his original form, and underneath it was a tight leather suit like Devimon's, only it was open down to his belts, exposing his well-toned chest that had no scars on it. Belts and chains were wrapped around his waist and limbs, and around his wrists were two broken silver cuffs. To top everything off, a mask darker than night itself was placed over his face, accenting his deadly eyes more than ever.

"Well, it looks as if the tables have turned, Myotismon Celestial Mode," laughed Myotismon Shadow Mode. "You thought I was your friend, did you not? I saw the way you confided in me and told me all your secrets…"

"I knew it before you told me," the angelic one spat back at his dark counterpart.

"Ah, but you only recently found out… I posed as an innocent little Poyomon like yourself at a younger age to gain your trust, and with that, I absorbed all of your dark energy. And don't think Daemon and Toxidramon were working on their own, either… and neither was LadyDevimon."

"We were all against you," said Daemon.

"Shut up, you tool!" retorted the dark vampire, causing the demon to shudder. "And now, InfernoDevimon, prepare to meet your end! And I have special plans in mind for you, Celestial Mode…" He laughed to himself and prepared to attack.

* * *

To be continued… 


	9. Identity

A/N: We've almost made it to the end! And yes, in case you were wondering, some parts of the Dark Archangel series were inspired by the movie _Dogma_. (It's definitely on my list of top ten favorite movies.) I have nothing more to say except there will be a third DA story coming this November… or December… or whatever. Also, I'd like to apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but the end of it would be a significant place for it to cut off. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 9  
Identity

"Attack them!" commanded Myotismon Shadow Mode, pointing directly at the two fallen angels. "And don't spare the remains… of InfernoDevimon!"

"What!" exclaimed Toxidramon. "Why only him? He did nothing!"

"He's a traitor," said Daemon. "I've had a premonition of it the entire time."

"Why would I be a traitor?" The fallen fire angel feigned a sense of betrayal. "I have been on your side since the night I fell into this ocean!"

Daemon advanced on InfernoDevimon, a fiendish plot brewing in his head. His eyes had the evil twinkle that only sparkled when such inspiration befell their owner. "Really…" he murmured, obviously not believing InfernoDevimon. "If you truly are on our side, then you will _kill him!_" He thrusted his finger in the direction of Myotismon Celestial Mode. As InfernoDevimon's face fell and he began to stall, Daemon continued, "Don't worry… one blow and it will all be over. Once again we demons will live in the splendor and glory that is ours in ruling the Dark Ocean!"

The fire demon mouthed the words "Forgive me" to his friend, then adamantly formed a large ball of fire before his chest. He stared at the angel, whose ice-blue eyes were not pleading to be spared, but who knew that InfernoDevimon would never hurt him. With tears in his crimson eyes, he shouted, "PURGATORIAN HOLOCAUST!"

It happened slowly and fluidly, as if in a dream. The blazing cross of flames shot straight towards the vampire, not ceasing for anything. Myotismon realized that the demon's intention was not to attack him, but save himself as well as his friend. If he were to make it appear like he was attacking the vampire but not doing so, he would be alive and able to help him. Myotismon held out his arms and prepared himself to take it all in.

Before the cross could touch him, there came a freezing blast of air. He gasped… his breath staggered… he was breathing in pure liquid nitrogen! So many painful memories flooded back and flashed before his eyes, biting at him like he bit so many helpless victims, only they were being repeated tenfold. He could count every tear inside his victims' eyes and the horrified expressions on their faces before they shattered into thousands of pieces before his eyes… every surge of Crimson Lightning and ever scar from whipping his victims… every henchmon's trepidation and despondence as the bars of their dungeon cells shadowed their faces… every victim that wandered into his domain and was stolen away into his castle… every single henchmon he tortured until they begged for death—_Gatomon… DemiDevimon… BlackGatomon… Minotauromon… Gazimon… Pumpkinmon… Gostumon… DemiDevimon… LadyDevimon… Gatomon… Daemon… Gatomon… Phantomon… Bakemon… WIZARDMON. _

A million hands gripped at his throat and pulled him downward, below the sand, into the black waters of the Dark Ocean of his soul. The water was so ungodly freezing, it pressed down on his chest and made his heart cold and hard… there was no goodness, no hope, nothing.

And then an image befell him—he was in the normal Dark Ocean again, where he could vaguely see his own Shadow Mode confronting Daemon and InfernoDevimon, with MarineDevimon retreating into the depths, lest he lose his power or worse—get deleted. Toxidramon stared at them intently, with an expression that clearly read, "I'm glad I'm not the one being attacked."

_I must not stand by while PyroAngemon is tormented like that!_

"Do you both take me for a fool?" interrogated Myotismon Shadow Mode, forming two whips of Mega Crimson Lightning which snaked through the air and wrapped around his two victims' necks. "InfernoDevimon, you above all. I take you under my wing and you turn against me. And Daemon… clearly aware of my master plan and ruining it by turning InfernoDevimon into _your_ pawn rather than mine!" He glanced to the side to see Myotismon Celestial Mode, alive and unscathed, staring at them as if prepared to attack. The Mega Crimson Lightning retreated as its beholder hissed, "You!"

"INFERNO WING!" screamed InfernoDevimon, unleashing a wave of fiery bats upon Daemon and the Shadow Mode, the latter of whom shielded himself effortlessly and advanced on Myotismon Celestial Mode, his arm outstretched as if absorbing power into his hand, siphoning dark energy out of the scar.

"HEAVEN'S NIGHTFALL!" shouted Myotismon Celestial Mode. "DEFEND!" Then came an outburst of dark energy that was not necessarily evil; it had a silvery sheen that symbolized goodness. This blast knocked the other four to the ground below, but Myotismon Shadow Mode was hit the hardest. The air seemed to vibrate and push the four victims into the sand, and to his fortune InfernoDevimon managed to stand up. Myotismon Shadow Mode sat upward, and his face was adorned by a grin that was so malicious he looked like a demon.

"Myotismon! Save yourself!" exclaimed InfernoDevimon. "I'll take care of these two creeps."

"No, PyroAngemon, don't do it! You need to live!"

"No… I never had a place in the universe as an angel of the flame. I was too evil for the angels; too righteous for the demons; and to the Datas I was simply a freak of nature. I don't belong anywhere, and this proves it. You have a dear angel bride and an unborn son, as well as two worlds to fight for. I'm sure that the angels will be fine without me."

"PyroAngemon, NO!"

"Go, Myotismon. Elude your Shadow Mode while you have the chance."

"NO!" Tears glittered in the vampire's eyes at the prospect of such a loss. "You saved me twice. Had it not been for you, I would have not come so far. Fight if you must, but mark my words, you will live to fly again!"

A lone tear of lava rolled down InfernoDevimon's cheek, and suddenly it turned to water. The image of PyroAngemon flashed on and off where the demon stood, and he nodded. "You know what you are doing, right?"

"You are an angel, dammit, and if the Council won't let you become one again, I promise you that I will personally give you back your wings!"

The image of InfernoDevimon remained. He clenched his teeth and turned to Daemon and Toxidramon as Myotismon Shadow Mode stood up and confronted his celestial mode.

"Touching, just touching," he said sarcastically, putting on a fake pained expression and running a finger down his cheek. "I think I'm going to cry!"

"What the bloody hell do you want from me?" demanded Myotismon Celestial Mode.

"Your soul, of course," said Myotismon Shadow Mode. "I have been trapped in this godforsaken limbo for six agonizing months, plotting your demise down to the last detail. Whom do you think made caused InfernoDevimon to scar you? And what about Daemon, Toxidramon, and LadyDevimon? Did you not know that they were all under my command?" He started pacing around his victim, like a lion around the kill. "And… oh, yes. Do you know who that poor, abandoned Poyomon was? It was I! I had you fooled! My light side always was the naïve one…" He stepped up to him closely. "And now… he will be no more."

"HEAVEN'S NIGHTFALL! DEFEND!" Once again, the blast of energy hit the Shadow Mode full-force and hurled him into the ocean. Myotismon cast one glance back at InfernoDevimon, then flew towards where he could regain himself and find a plan. Across the entire lone isle, a cave beckoned him to enter, so he did so. Winded from the energy it took to do so—usually it was effortless, but here his abilities did not have a great magnitude… hell, the Defend would have killed the Shadow Mode if it had been on Earth.

* * *

Things were looking grim for InfernoDevimon. Once the Defend wore off, Toxidramon and Daemon stood up and advanced on the fallen angel, forcing him backwards until he was knee-deep in the water. He felt it eating away at his power, so he leapt into the air with all of his strength. He knew he had to destroy the others before they could find Myotismon.

"INFERNO WING!" he shouted, letting loose a barrage of bats on the other two.

Daemon glanced at Toxidramon. "EVIL FLAPPING!" He spread his cape and unleashed a mighty wind that knocked the bats against their master, burning holes into his suit and adhering them to his skin.

"TOXIC CRUSHER!" shouted Toxidramon. A green beam of light erupted from his hand, and the demon quickly dodged the blow before the poison fused itself into him.

Quickly, in a dangerous maneuver, he swooped downward, withdrawing his sword and aiming it directly at Daemon. "SATANIC SCEPTER!" he shouted, and it fused directly into Daemon's arm. The demon let out a scream so agonizing the whole world seemed to shake. InfernoDevimon was overjoyed; he was winning! "INFERNO WING!" Another flock of fiery bats shot out from nowhere and began eating away at Toxidramon, whose Flame of Grendel only made them more powerful.

InfernoDevimon was prepared to finish both of them off when suddenly he heard the dreaded "MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" Suddenly, he felt a bolt of lightning lodge itself into his back and emit the most agonizing and searing pain imaginable as electricity shot through his blood and burned him on the inside more than his fire could do so. Screaming bloody murder, he plummeted down into the waters below, where he felt the ice and the lightning make the worst combination of agony imaginable. He felt his breath staggering and his vision becoming clouded, but he stood up and decided that he would not let this death stop him.

"_You will live to fly again!"_

"PURGATORIAN HOLOCAUST!" he screamed so loudly his throat became hoarse, using every final fiber of his energy to create his most powerful and deadly Purgatorian Holocaust attack yet. It flew straight at Daemon in the form of a blue-hot dragon instead of a cross, which swallowed the demon whole and turned him into dark ash the second it did. In a split second, all that remained was the echo of Daemon's scream. Toxidramon promptly retreated towards the dark forest, and Myotismon Shadow Mode, who had become completely dry, was seen standing over InfernoDevimon as he fell backwards into the water.

"Say good-night," said the Shadow Mode, pinning him to the ocean floor so he could not breathe. The demon's eyes were pleading for one more chance, but he knew that his nemesis would not let him have it. The Shadow Mode narrowed his ice-blue eyes and shouted, "MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!"

There was a flash of red light, and InfernoDevimon was gone.

* * *

The suspense in the air was so thick, it was almost deadly. Myotismon backed even farther away into the cave, into pure darkness where he could not be seen. All was in vain, as he heard the voice of his Shadow Mode closing in.

"I know you're in here!" he called out. "I can smell your fear!"

Unaware of what would be awaiting him at the other end, the vampire headed deeper into the cave, which seemed to have smooth, rocky floors and a low ceiling that dripped water as it sloped downward. Occassionally, he felt rocks underneath his feet, but he kept going even as it grew colder and got a musty smell. He could hear footsteps behind him and see somewhat of a crimson glow, and he felt as if he was able to buy some time as the tunnel twisted and turned. He knew that he was directly underneath the ocean, and that there was no escape…

And that was when he reached a dead end. He could hear his heart beating unbelievably quickly, not knowing what Myotismon Shadow Mode would do to him next—

He felt around, searching for an exit. Knowing how dangerous it was, he pointed his sword upwards and let it glow. There was a doorway above him, almost like a trapdoor. Not knowing what would be behind it, he opened it and climbed into MarineDevimon's undersea palace, which, unbeknownst to him, had been overtaken by his Shadow Mode. He appeared to be in some sort of domed battle arena, where the glass windows extended from the curved rotunda above the black marble walls to the top and revealed that this castle was in the exact center of a perpetual waterspout. Like the eye of the storm, this was placid—too placid. Glancing around, he saw no doors or portals to his freedom except the glass.

And then a fog rolled in and filled the room as Myotismon Shadow Mode burst through the trapdoor and rose into the air. He gracefully floated downward to the floor, which had nothing on it except tile.

"It looks like you're trapped, Celestial Mode," said the dark vampire, advancing on his lighter counterpart. "And there is nothing you can do about it. None of your pathetic friends are here to save you, and I will finally achieve what I have dreamed about ever since we separated." The Celestial Mode backed away so far he hit the black wall behind him—trapped between a vampire and a hard place.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" shouted Myotismon in his own defense, but the lightning never came out.

Myotismon Shadow Mode laughed. "Do you believe that your pitiful angel attacks will actually work in here? This is the _Dark_ Ocean, where attacks like yours are not welcome. In my palace, I am the one who makes the rules. The Dark Ocean is mine!" He laughed maniacally, then continued. "And now that I have got you where I want you, you will be mine again, and we will once again merge to become one Digimon… one Myotismon. The way we were before that no account Wizardmon separated our parts and made us this horrible yin and yang.

"Yes, look at me—trapped in this Hell with nothing to my name except the infinite control over its land and sea of dead emotions… what is the point of ruling if there is no one alive to rule over? No humans ever come down here, and Earth was our only goal… and we have never achieved that!

"Look at yourself… so alone and afraid, with a child arriving in less than nine months who will soon die thanks to the virus we created. Angemon has rejected you, and Wizardmon has done the same. Think about it—if they cared, they would be down here fighting for you.

"Neither of us is content separated from ourselves… will you allow me to merge with you and make us whole again… as one body and one mind? Open your heart and let me in, and soon I will give you a new beginning… together we can escape and achieve our dreams."

"NO!" shouted Myotismon Celestial Mode. "You will never take me away! I love Angewomon and will never let her perish!"

The Shadow Mode, glaring, took his Mega Crimson Lightning and pinned the vampire against the wall, forcing him to fly high above the ground, holding him around his limbs and his neck. Then he flew up there, seeing his counterpart struggling to break free, and flew so closely their bodies were almost pressed together. He lightly touched the scar with his finger. Slowly, he pressed it, and his entire hand phased through.

The Celestial Mode gasped, feeling a hand made entirely of ice grip at his heart and wrench it out… infecting it. He felt the hand worming through his body, attached to an arm, which skulked into his chest and forced itself into his arm… the Shadow Mode was entering his body through the scar, through all the darkness compressed into a blemish on his skin…

There was no escape from the Evil that entered, putting on his skin like a suit… suddenly, he caught his reflection in the glass as his Celestial Mode suit began to change color. All that was white turned black, and all that was silver became crimson. Finally, his pure white mask changed blood-red, exactly like his former one. The coldness seeped through his body in the form of the Shadow Mode's, clawing through and stretching until it felt the shape perfectly… he could no longer see… his feelings of love for Angewomon turned to hate! All of a sudden, he _loathed _that angel and wanted nothing more than to see her perish. Why had he even dreamed of becoming this Celestial Mode?

The scar was gone. All of the darkness spread through him, turning evil again.

One body, one mind…

But not one soul.

* * *

To be concluded… 


	10. One Myotismon

Final Author's Note: We have made it to the end, as is the tradition of the tenth chapter in my stories. My other tradition is to thank each and every one of you who took the time to read this story, so here goes: vampirelucemon, blackmage718, Sabriel-19842, Adalia Glenys, Mariella/Marie, and missterio! Although there were not as many reviewers as the first story had (given the fact that this was M-rated and I don't update very often), the quality of your reviews and the way you kept the faith in this story is beyond wonderful. I hope you will all stay for "DARK ARCHANGEL III," coming next month! Thank you, good-night, have a frighteningly fun Halloween, and ENJOY!

* * *

Chapter 10  
One Myotismon 

"TOXIC CRUSHER!" echoed from below the stadium floor. The marble tiles quaked with all their might, and then a blast of green light erupted through as they shattered into the air. Toxidramon flew above it on his mighty wings and then landed on the ground, seeing only one Myotismon in the Celestial Mode's ensemble that had turned as black as his Shadow Mode's soul, turned away from him so as not to see him. Seeing the black velvet mantle, the dragon asked the one question that led to his very demise: "Is the angelic one dead yet, master?"

Myotismon whirled towards him, a stony expression on his face, with glowing ice blue eyes set against it. Remaining deathly silent, he advanced on Toxidramon like a predator on its prey, and the latter backed against the wall.

"What are you doing to me, master? Have you gone mad?"

Yet Myotismon still said nothing. He extended his right arm, and his hand glowed the blood-red that only meant death for so many of his victims.

By this time, Toxidramon was cornered. "M-master, Master Myotismon! What has gotten into you!" He gasped as his glance met the ice-blue of his eyes, which fused a coldness beyond comprehension into his blood and freezing him from the inside. It had slowly buried itself into his heart. Petrified like a statue, Toxidramon's green eyes widened to see a red whip come crashing down onto him. Unable to scream or run, it was his worst nightmare come to life, and there was no escape.

Within an instant, Toxidramon had disappeared not because of Myotismon, but because of the vampiric shell in which two souls were in combat to the death. Without one to control and restrain it, this body was capable of nothing except being a mindless killing machine, and its next victim would be the entire Dark Ocean… to envelop it in darkness, precisely what he had intended for Earth…

He rose into the air and let out a mighty supernova of Crimson Lightning, crashing through the glass ceiling and soaring straight up, above the entire Dark Ocean. Soon it would be his and he would be able to infect Earth…

* * *

Myotismon Celestial Mode awoke, trapped in a world of darkness where he could barely see his own hand in front of him. Dark blue and blood-red smoke that reeked of evil swirled around him, making ghastly patterns and hands that seemed to grab at his throat and seize him downward, where he immediately felt a new sense of coldness rise around him. Looking downward, he could see the silvery waters of the Dark Ocean, only they were vast and endless as the human universe itself… 

"I see you are still alive," said Myotismon Shadow Mode, approaching him—appropriately—from the shadows. "And it seems that I have discovered the oversight in my ingenious plan to merge souls with you. For we have been separate for so long, we are no longer one in the same, but two different souls. I thought that your body—still fully alive in the digital world—would be the perfect place for my soul to thrive off of your darkness. But now… now it seems I have no choice but to destroy you from inside."

"Where the bloody hell am I?" shouted the Celestial Mode, standing up. His scar began to glow as red as his Crimson Lightning.

"Inside yourself," answered the Shadow Mode. "Your mind, to be precise, where the light and darkness in your heart are fed. The mind comprehends so much, but the heart cannot feel what the mind does not interpret." He disappeared into a whirl of smoke that trailed into the air, and suddenly a wave from his Dark Ocean crashed upon the Celestial Mode, drenching him with the darkness of the soul.

Suddenly the image changed drastically—the brightness of Primary Village stood before him, yet a menacing thunderstorm loomed in the background. The vampire wondered why he was there.

Then hundreds of Baby Digimon and an Elecmon materialized out of thin air, all with furious expressions on their faces.

"You. Myotismon," said Elecmon, his eyes slitted and teeth clenched. "You have enslaved all of the babies I have worked so hard to take care of and turned them against me."

Then the round, unintimidating infants digivolved before Myotismon's eyes and warp-digivolved through time lapse into the Rookies, Champions, Ulitmates, and Megas—each one had become a slave, a servant, a minion. The storm blew a polar draft around the vampire's scantily clad figure as his servants turned against him and began to advance on him from the front.

He turned around to see an image of Server befalling him, and every Digimon on there who had not been enslaved under him was in that image. Only this time, it was every Digimon whose homes had been reduced to the dust and decay of his Nightmare Domain, as he once called it. Server was no longer an ideal environment; it had the browning grass, the leafless trees, and the sinister mountains looming over them like guards.

"You have selfishly turned our homes into your glory!" exclaimed the very Piximon who had been so helpful towards the Digi-Destined. "The bloodshed and warfare might have made you a legend, and our fear might have fed you, but ever since you came we have envied the dead!" He whapped the vampire across the face with the staff he always carried.

To his left, he saw all of the humans he had oppressed with his terror superimposed against Tokyo—all of the women whose blood he sucked from their necks to sustain his own life and raped to satisfy his own sexual desires, all of the children his Bakemon had stolen away into the convention center and were forced to endure their own worst nightmares in the presence of a seven-foot-tall vampire who loomed over them like the impending doom if they had been the child of whom he had spoken, all of the people who were killed or injured by his minions, and their friends and loved ones.

"Your unquenchable thirsts have left us deprived of all we held sacred to ourselves!" exclaimed the young woman he had remembered from the night before. "Power… blood… and _lust_. I may never be able to have children because of what you did to me!"

"I did not intend it, my dear…"

"Don't be calling me those pathetic pet names. You're not the one who was pressed against the ground and soiled as punishment for working late!"

Turning to the right, then to the right again, in the only place he had not seen yet, the vampire laid eyes upon his Shadow Mode, standing there in his full glory.

"It seems your past has come back to haunt you, Myotismon Celestial Mode," declared Myotismon Shadow Mode, holding back his evil laughter. He approached his lighter counterpart and stood closely to him. "Look how pathetic you have become… an _angel_. Why, you are not even a true angel; you are a Virus!" He clenched his hands tightly around the Celestial Mode's arms and turned him around to face everyone who had become his enemy. He could not do anything about it; the darkness rooted him to the ground and held him in place as the Shadow Mode paced around him and millions of eyes stared unblinkingly at him. "Your fear is so great, I can smell it from another dimension." He returned to the back and placed his head against the Celestial Mode's neck, about to bite it. Myotismon Celestial Mode stood petrified as the Shadow Mode's cold breath sank upon his neck. "Your fear will give me the power to destroy you!"

Without another word, the Shadow Mode plunged his fangs into the Celestial Mode's neck—the very twin agony that Myotismon had given his victims. His blood ran cold and gushed into his darker half's mouth, wincing as the Shadow Mode's eager tongue lapped up the blood, mocking him with everything he had done in his past. Every Digimon and human advanced on him slowly, relishing the pain. He was about to be defeated by his own past…

"NO!" he screamed, breaking free. "I won't let you!"

"And neither will we!" exclaimed the familiar voice of Angewomon as the angel maiden herself floated downward from the darkness, followed by Angemon, Wizardmon, Aeronumon, PyroAngemon, Azulongmon, the other three Guardians, and the four angels who had appeared to PyroAngemon on the other side of the gate.

"Angewomon!" hissed Myotismon Shadow Mode, pulling his fangs out of his counterpart's neck. "How dare you! You don't belong in this vision!"

"Why don't I?" retorted the angel. "You're not the only Myotismon! You have two souls, but one body _and one mind!_ For not only your dreams, but his! It is time you met your match."

They all gathered together and began to glow a bright white, forcing the Shadow Mode to step back and shield his face. Without even the slightest effort, they created a burst so bright, it obliterated every vision and dissolved them before their eyes.

"And now it's time to get the Shadow Mode out of your body! For we are the future, and the prospect of us will always overshadow the past!" shouted Angemon. "Angewomon?"

"HEAVEN'S CHARM!" she shouted. "Everyone, give me your power!"

A brightly-colored ball appeared before everyone's chest, and the light filtered into a single one in front of Angewomon, who formed it into an arrow. Myotismon Shadow Mode backed away in fear, the first time he had done so.

"CELESTIAL ARROW!"

Once again, as it had been done a year prior to this, the arrow of light was shot straight and true out of its bow and pierced Myotismon Shadow Mode's evil heart right where it had been before. He groaned in agony and vanished.

"Don't get your hopes up," warned Angewomon. "He's on the outside."

Upon the vanishing of the angels, Myotismon found himself hovering above the Dark Ocean, and his uniform had once again reverted to its silver and white state. The Shadow Mode faced him as if in a standoff, still floating in midair above the waters of darkness and despair, brandishing a bolt of his infamous Mega Crimson Lightning. As if the lightning had been plunged into his heart, Myotismon felt a searing pain in his chest and saw that his scar burned brightly like a flame.

"The time has come for you to be destroyed," declared the Shadow Mode. "You, and then your pitiful bride. You may have won this round, but I shall recruit everyone from your past and turn them against you. The torment will be unleashed upon your mind and heart until you are nothing but a soulless shell, a husk that will dry up in the wind. If I must submerge you in the ocean until the waters penetrate deep into your heart, then so be it! And then I will travel to Earth and kill your weakling of a girlfriend as I wrench your child from her womb and kill him as well. Angemon and Wizardmon—to Hell with them! Without you to protect them, their futures are doomed forever, and I will finally have the chance to—"

At every word spoken by the Shadow Mode, Myotismon grew more furious by the second, and his desire to kill welled up inside. He saw crimson before his eyes, then stars, then a whirl of colors provoked by the rage. He could never allow his own counterpart to take what he loved the most away from him.

Never…

_Never…_

_ NEVER!_

_"ELYSIAN SWORD!"_ He rushed right at the Shadow Mode, but the Shadow Mode darted out of the way and slashed a bolt of Mega Crimson Lightning directly at the weapon. Sparks flew off with a clang accompanied by a hiss.

"_MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!_" The crimson bolt sliced the air as it flew towards Myotismon, but the vampire held his mangled sword in front of his face to block it. The sword and its beholder were forced backwards. A sweat broke upon the vampire's face as he clenched his teeth and summoned his strength to live. If he fell—

"LETHAL DARKNESS!" A poisonous nightfall of pure black rushed at Myotismon with such force it literally took his breath away. The Shadow Mode darkly chuckled to himself as he watched his counterpart writhe in agony and begin to slowly hover downward. The darkness infused itself into the vampire's body, creating a coldness and the ultimate sense of despair that he had never felt… only created.

"MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" Myotismon could not react quickly enough as he saw a red lightning bolt crash against his body as Toxidramon's had done… only this time it dragged itself upwards instead of downwards, deeply lacerating the scar on his chest, nearly decapitating him, and knocking his mask off. Blood poured out of his wound and rained into the waters below—red mingling with silver to create a gruesome sight. He felt lightheaded as his head thrust itself back into the normal position, revealing the terrible blemish on his face. Two blows were forced across his front side, stabbing him then cutting through, branching off into smaller ones like a bloody tree, allowing rivulets and streams of liquid life to seep out.

"RAGING NIGHTMARE!" Myotismon Shadow Mode unleashed a flock of bats against his counterpart, letting them eat away at his skin and turn the blue to crimson.

"HEAVEN'S… NIGHTFALL! DEFEND!" shouted Myotismon. A white sphere of light shot out from his chest, blinding the bats and causing them to dissolve with hundreds of simultaneous, agonized screeches.

Myotismon Shadow Mode clenched his teeth. "MEGA CRIMSON LIGHTNING!"

It all happened slowly, as if in a dream. The whip seemed to tear through the air as if in a time lapse, yet Myotismon could not fly quickly enough. Suddenly, as if it were a sword, the lightning was plunged directly into his heart and seared him through the scar to the other side. The pain was so intense the vampire blacked out, then plummeted into the water.

* * *

Angemon placed a cup of water against Angewomon's lips. "Drink," he told her, not in a commanding tone but more of a concerned one. He and Wizardmon, upon their return, had found the female angel in the worst condition yet. Her skin had turned as white as the sheets on which she slept, except for her fever-tinged face. Her blue eyes were shut; her mouth was open, letting a moan escape every time she exhaled. Sweat beads trickled down her face, intermingling with her tears. "Please… drink the water… you'll feel better," he wheedled again, suppressing his tears. 

"I… I'm going to die…" said Angewomon in a feverish whisper. "No… let me… let me die…" She paused to catch what little breath she could take in. "And… tell… My… Myo… Myotismon… how much I love him…"

"I won't let you die!" shouted Angemon. "I _can't!_"

Wizardmon rushed in with a hastily-assembled elixir composed of various healing herbs and potions inside a clay bowl. "Angewomon, you have to take this medicine! It's the only way you'll live." He held it out, but Angemon knocked it out of his hands.

"You fool! How dare you give her herbs! It could harm the…" He trailed off, wondering if he should tell Angewomon about her baby or not. "It could… make the virus worse…"

"Myotismon…" whispered Angewomon. "Where is he?… Why… is he not here?"

The angel had suppressed his guilt for so long it erupted in a stream of self-pitious tears. "I sent him to the Dark Ocean! The abode of the damned! _I wanted to kill him!_"

"Angemon… why?"

"Because… because… because he planted a child inside you and infected you both with his virus!"

"Angemon… am I… am I pregnant?"

"_Yes!_ It was all that blasted vampire's fault, and I sent him to rot in the Dark Ocean where he belongs!"

"No… I can… I can sense him… fighting for us."

"It's all a feverish dream!"

"He is… I know he is! Let me fight for him! He… he is… he is whom I love… and I don't want anything to happen to…"

Angemon gasped as he saw that the angel's feet were breaking up, beginning at the tips of her boots. "Holy Goddramon, _you're dissolving!_"

Angewomon said nothing; her energy had all been concentrated into fighting for Myotismon. She knew she had to gather what little power she had left to keep him from dying like her.

* * *

He was alone. 

He was nothing.

He could not have died… the water that had filled his lungs did not suffocate him and make him drown. He could breathe as if the water itself were air…

His death was within. His soul was gone, completely eaten away.

The water was a sense that gripped and wrenched at everything inside him, manipulating his mind and heart until they could not support his soul, thin and fragile as his figure and yet as angelic as his face…

But where were they?

Where was he?

Who was he?

What was he?

_Why_ was he?

He did not know. All sense of self was gone forever. In complete darkness that was so cold he was rendered immobile, the vampire felt detached from his own body, unsure of his own existence. He was sure that _he_ was out in the Dark Ocean, wiping innocent souls off its face.

_All hope is lost. No one can save me… save yourselves and never suffer the same fate as I… a lost cause._

_ "No…"_ whispered a voice in his ear.

Myotismon felt as if he could see again. Opening his eyes, he saw complete darkness except for a point of light far off in the distance, beckoning for him to enter. He desired to move, but he felt as if he had been frozen forever in time.

"_Myotismon… can you hear me?"_

He recognized the voice. _Angewomon?_ he thought, hoping his mind could penetrate the wall between him and everything else.

"_Myo… there is still hope. I am here for you. Please let me live… live for me. If you allow yourself to die, I will die."_

_ Angewomon, NO! There is so much for which you must live!_

_"Your child needs you as a father figure. Angemon could never be one, for you are my child's true father, and only you can bestow upon him the love that you have gained from everything."_

_ My child…_ thought Myotismon. Instantly, he felt as if he had become something again, but only a partial self and incomplete. The light grew, and the vampire saw that he was now composed of thin grey lines, capable of moving. He felt his soul reanimating. _I shall fight for him, and for you as well_. He now possessed dimensions, but still lacked his color. _Remain with me, and I will come home to you. I will never let my own darkness take control of anyone, especially not myself when the entire world is in dire need of a savior!_

_ "You ARE our savior, Myotismon. Never forget!"_

Color began to return to the vampire's body as orbs of light, minute stars glowing in a vast array of blue, white, gold, and silver, flew onto him and spread their vibrant hues. Every part of him felt anew, though his scar still remained. The light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter, and the shapes on the other side grew more distinct. The vampire found himself back in the Dark Ocean, feeling a new surge of power.

"Well, well, well, back for more, are you?" taunted Myotismon Shadow Mode, who faced his counterpart. "I know exactly what to do with you. RAGING NIGHTMARE!" He spread his cape to unleash a cloud of bats so thick and dark it blocked out all light.

"HEAVEN'S NIGHTFALL! DEFEND!" shouted the Celestial Mode, holding out his hand and letting a sheet of translucent white light shield him from his Shadow Mode. He felt no energy being drained from his center, as if Angewomon herself were part of this miraculous shield. The bats abruptly dissolved.

Myotismon Shadow Mode was so enraged, veins started bulging from his crimson-tinged forehead. "LETHAL DARKNESS!" The nightfall washed over the barrier but did nothing to destroy it. "How DARE you…" he hissed.

"CRIMSON LIGHTNING!" shouted Myotismon, letting a bolt of his lethal lightning shoot through the air and hit Myotismon Shadow Mode in the chest. The latter doubled over and pulled the blood-red sword out of him, a look of agonizing pain on his face. Suddenly, an evil glint appeared in his ice-blue eyes, and his grin had become demonic.

A pair of hands clamped themselves over Myotismon's face so he could barely breathe. They were dry and scaly, and the claws dug into his skin. The shield disappeared, and the vampire struggled to see who had done this.

"Remember me, slave?" boomed the unmistakable voice of Toxidramon, who had become the very same demon the vampire had fought the night he digivolved. "You thought you had me defeated, but you are horribly mistaken. As long as the Shadow Mode lives, I live! Your afterlife is over. Prepare yourself for an eternity of torment in the Dark Ocean as you witness Earth's demise!"

Myotismon Shadow Mode whipped the vampire with his Mega Crimson Lightning, directly down from his chest, making sure to drag it across the scar. A searing pain burned Myotismon, causing him to writhe in agony as Toxidramon held him in place. It happened twice. Then a third time. The Shadow Mode waited for a brief moment so the pain would intensify even more.

_"I am here for you…"_

_

* * *

_

Angemon and Wizardmon stood horrified, and then they knew that the only way they could prevent this untimely death was to travel to the Dark Ocean or at least give the vampire a doorway out. By that time, Myotismon had been seized by Toxidramon's demonic state and Angewomon's feet had completely dissolved. She began to cry out even more loudly.

"We need to create a Gate of Destiny," said Angemon. "NOW!" he added.

Wizardmon promptly took his staff, and it turned to pure gold, emitting a bright white light. "_By the power of the angels above, open the Gate and bring Myotismon to his Destiny! Radei, DOMÉ!"_

The light was absorbed into Angemon's body. "_GATE OF DESTINY… REVERSE!"_ he shouted, gathering his strength, for he knew that he must will all of his energy in order to give the vampire time to travel through. He outspread his arms as if he had been crucified, and then a portal larger and mightier than MagnaAngemon's Gate of Destiny materialized out of thin air, its platinum-plated doors opening to reveal the horrific scene in the Dark Ocean. Angemon clenched his teeth as he felt his power quickly dwindling.

"MYOTISMON!" screamed Wizardmon. "SAVE YOURSELF!" He glanced over, seeing that Angewomon had dissolved up to her knees. If she were to live, but were to dematerialize past that crucial area, her baby would be gone forever. "SAVE YOUR CHILD!" he added.

* * *

Myotismon Shadow Mode ceased his whipping and glanced at the open gate several hundred meters away, less than a minute's flight from that point. Immediately he flew over, and Toxidramon tightened his grip. 

All happened slowly, as if in a dream. Myotismon felt the love overpowering, as if he were a true angel. The sudden surge of energy caused him to erupt in a flash of white light, blinding Toxidramon and zapping him with a searing pain. The light formed a shield around him as he flew towards his Shadow Mode.

"TOXIC CRUSHER!" The dragon used his deadliest attack yet, but the shield reflected the Toxic Crusher back at the one who had sent it. It hit him directly in the eyes, and Toxidramon could see no more. He stumbled around in a frenzy of fury and fear before he finally crashed onto the sand.

"Myotismon!" shouted the Shadow Mode. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

They could see the image on the other side of the gate. Angemon, struggling to keep the portal open, had fallen to his knees. His breaths were gasps, and his veins had split apart, staining his white suit with crimson blood. Angewomon screamed and writhed in agony, and her thighs were quickly disappearing by the second.

"My friends have sacrificed everything for me, and now… I shall make amends!" declared Myotismon. The scar on his chest glowed white instead of red, and suddenly a white X appeared in midair. "MYSTIC RADIANCE!"

All of the concentrated power in the scar shot out at Myotismon Shadow Mode before he had time to react. It hit him directly in the heart. There was a bright flash of light, and a second portal opened, filled with fire, brimstone, and the screams of the damned. Myotismon Shadow Mode was sucked into the deeper Hell, and as the portal shut forever, all that was left was his agonized scream.

"MYOTISMON!" shouted Wizardmon again.

Before he had time to rejoice in his Shadow Mode's defeat, Myotismon whirled around to see that the Gate of Destiny was about to close. Quickly, he flew through as the doors shut and vanished, and Angemon had dropped to the floor, exhausted and in pain. His eyes took in another horrific sight—Angewomon dying from his virus. He rushed over to the bed and leaned over her.

"Angewomon…" he whispered, running a hand across her cheek as only half of her thighs remained. Soon, it would be all over. "You saved me from my own darkness, and now… and now you're dying…"

He would not hold anything back. The tears clouded his eyes as he thought about his bride whom he would no longer be able to cherish and his unborn son who would never live to see the light of day… all because of him.

"I am so sorry for all I have done to you…" he whispered again in a choked-up voice. Her legs had disappeared. The virus was reaching for her womb, in which Aeronumon would no longer rest. "And I would give anything to see you heal… please… forgive me…" A single tear rolled down his cheek as he removed his precious crimson mask. The crystal tears trickled down the pale skin crossed by the crimson scar, onto the angel's body.

_Drip…_

_ Drip…_

_ Drip…_

_ Angel tears heal._

Wizardmon gasped, for at the exact moment the first of the vampire's tears touched Angewomon, the effects of the virus began to reverse themselves. She reappeared, piece by piece, until the angel maiden was whole again.

_They can destroy the most potent of viruses._

She ceased her writhing. Her screaming became a soft moan of relief. A cool breeze wafted over her and washed away the heat.

_But only the tears of a true angel can do so._

Delicately, the vampire ran over to Angemon, seeing how the one who had once wished him dead had nearly sacrificed his own life to bring the vampire back. He delicately wept over him, and the wounds closed through the tears in the fabric of the angel's white suit, repairing the skin and reviving the angel within.

_Not all angels can heal other angels. It takes the most powerful bearer of light to bring them back to life._

"Myotismon…" whispered Angemon, opening his eyes. "You… you are… alive…" He paused to breathe in the sweet new life around him. "And you truly are not only an angel, but… the Angel of Light who is destined to save us… He closed his eyes again.

* * *

Deep into the night, Myotismon sat on the edge of the cloud on which their castle rested, facing away from the sun and towards the moon. A silvery glow reflected off of him and in the eyes that were blue pools of hope. He lay against the silken surface, relieved to feel a balance once again. Exhausted from everything, he was about to drift off when Angewomon flew up to him. 

"Myotismon?" she wondered.

"Angewomon…" he murmured, enclosing her hands in his firm yet soft grip. "I… I apologize for everything."

Angewomon placed a finger against his lips. "Shh…" she said. "What you did tonight was more than anyone could hope for. Any Digimon who can singlehandedly destroy the ultimate darkness does not need to apologize."

"But you must not forget, I did not fight alone," he reminded her softly. "You were holding my hand through everything, though we were both in peril."

"As were you," replied Angewomon. "Simply by living."

The vampire let go of the angel's hands and gently placed his on her lower stomach. "And this… this was the ultimate reason I lived. He fought for both of us." He saw Angewomon cracking a slight smile and her gaze traveling down to the cloud below them. "Our son… and I hope that he will be as beautiful and angelic as you." He took his hands off and placed them on his mask. "Angewomon… this is my present to you." He stared into his angel maiden's eyes, blue into blue, and closed his own. Slowly yet unyieldingly, he deftly removed his mask and let it drop onto the surface of the cumulus cloud. He let his golden hair fall into his face and looked at his feet.

"Myotismon… you're more beautiful than ever without your mask," said Angewomon. She traced the scar spanning his face. "Is this what you were hiding from me?"

The vampire nodded.

"I think it suits you…" she said, drawing closer to her love and breathing in his sweet scent. The X-shaped blemish that had once crossed his chest had completely disappeared.

"I love you, Angewomon," said Myotismon, embracing his angel in his arms and enfolding her in his cape.

Once again, their lips met in a passionate kiss as the orb of the moon bathed them in its gentle light. The stars glittered in the velvet sky, and down on Earth and the digital world, for one shining moment, everyone had achieved a sense of peace and tranquility. They let their faces gently drift apart.

"And I love you, Myotismon," whispered Angewomon, feeling the warmth around and inside her. "You are truly the Dark Archangel of the Digital World."

* * *


End file.
